You saved me
by ladymond
Summary: Annie wouldn't think twice before throwing herself over a landmine to save others, especially the ones she loves. Is she willing to sacrifice herself to help Mitchell retain his soul? Back from Hiatus!
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers: Set around the first couple of episodes of season 2 (Lucy, Box Tunnel 20, etc. didn't happen).**

**AN: As everybody else, I need to fix things through fanfiction. I've been reading amazing stories about the after of s03e08. Because so many have already written those scenarios so beautifully I want to go in another direction. And because I think it's unfair for them to have to wait for their afterlife to be properly together.**

**This will take a while to be completed. I don't know yet how many chapters but I wanted to put this out before I lost the courage. Please bear with me and take into account that English is my second language.**

* * *

For those afraid of sleeping (or shall I say, for those afraid of dreaming) the absolutely worse was the moment right before coming out of deep sleep when the vertigo of reality morphs with that of the dream, everything and nothing possible at once. As he was coming back from slumber he noticed the lack of dreams, or nightmares. Waking up had never been a peaceful trance for him, maybe years before his recruitment, but definitely not after, at least not since he had been clean.

This realization petrified Mitchell.

He stopped himself from opening his eyes, and tried to avoid the habitual non-needed breath. He remembered the horrible thirst the prior night: it had been steadily growing in the past weeks as his hands would shake as they tried to light up a fag.

And last night had been horrid, the stench from the ambulance when he was leaving work: a true carnage, one not caused by his kind for a change. A train had derailed and the smell of blood was everywhere as he left the hospital.

He had managed to get close to home, repeating mentally the steps left until he could get inside and lock the door and throw away the key "Just three more blocks, just turn the corner, just get to the door" but then at turning the corner he had been welcomed by a block party on that unusual warm night. His head pounded by the thundering flow in their rich blue veins. He had come this far to achieve humanity; he was truly someone else's toy, he thought with disdain.

At least George wouldn't be there to see it happen, he was supposed to spend the night at Nina's. And Annie had taken to wander the streets at night. With some luck she'd be away as well.

Three steps more and maybe he'd make it. Someone was coming to him; it was that heavy man from around the corner. He panicked and sprinted the last two steps. A hand had managed to fish for the key, but the tremors would never let it reach the slot. Everything was lost. He could feel his fangs descend and his eyes darken with the proverbial red. "Oh God forgive me" he thought, and as he was about to turn the door opened and Annie's image broke the spell.

He was inside now. She must have helped, but right now he couldn't remember the actions. Her face was contorted with worry and he thought for a moment that she was shaking him, trying to get him to snap out of it. He looked at his hands and noticed it wasn't her, but him; his hands still shook and he crumbled to the floor taking her down.

Outside the blood kept calling with its siren's song.

"Lock me away! Please! Don't let me do this!"

She had been on her way out, had decided at the last minute to use the door. She had always liked street fairs, the mess of the crowds made her forget she couldn't be seen, she'd feel alive again she thought, sometimes she liked to pretend. She had opened the door and he was there, and his eyes had yelled silently at her.

He didn't need to plead. She took him upstairs as well as she could and locked the door without letting go of him. She doubted she'd be able to do much to stop him if he finally gave up to the lust of the blood. She could feel his fear flowing through the tips of the fingers out the gloves coursing through her. It was so strong that she wondered if her eyes had darkened as well. She let go with one hand and he clamped his orphaned one on her arm, afraid to drown without her support. But her hand had just travelled up to his cheek. She placed the full palm on his face and tried to convey whatever peace she had left. Soon another hand followed and she wrapped herself around the trembling vampire.

That had been his last conscious thought. Or at least that had been the last thing he could remember right now with his eyes tightly shut afraid to face what he had done.

At last he had breathed in, sure to be greeted by the rust in the air of his surely unforgivable deed. But the air was clean of the evil he feared. He was still in his room and thank God the demon in his flesh had been tamed. He dared open an eye and the dim light from the window hurt his sensitive sight. He turned away and tried once more.

She was lying on his bed facing away, and for the first time she looked truly dead to him. He would have howled if he didn't know better. She was there, and gone was the eternal grey. In the twilight of the early hours, among the grey of the cold shadows, the nude skin of her back was a warm caramel.

At last the familiar stab of his crimes hollowed him. Oh he had indeed done the unthinkable! Just not what he had feared at first. He may not had spilled blood the prior night but it was evident he had once again sullen what was pure and good.

She remained motionless and silent on his bed.

She had not fallen asleep. She hadn't been able since falling down the stairs (no, not fallen, but pushed.) If she had to be truthful she'd say that she hadn't tried to sleep because of the fear of what waking up to her new reality would be like. No, she had not fallen asleep after the act, but she had gone somewhere because time had passed without her knowledge. At university she had read a poem that likened climax to "getting inside God's mouth", she couldn't remember the poet nor the rest, but she was sure something alike had happened, for she had disappeared from this earth for a few moments or a few hours.

Something had just pulled her from her trance. The soft movement of the mattress beneath her, which let her know, he was awake. She felt him sit up. Soon they'd have to talk but she couldn't remember words right then.

The soft breeze made her aware of her nakedness. She felt at once drunk with the almost forgotten feeling of the bareness of her skin and mortified at the reminder that he was looking at her as vulnerable as she would ever be.

He couldn't form words. He looked at her ashamed and fearful to see her face. What could be worse?

'Please don't let her be tainted by me… Please don't let her eyes be swollen with sorrow and regret… Please don't let her be hollow… Please don't let her finally be truly dead and ghostly and devoid of the life she had stubbornly refused to give up on after her death…' he pleaded and begged to someone or something he wasn't completely sure existed or would listen to him.

The images of what had transpired slowly flowed to both of them. The revelation she had about the power of her touch: if his demons could pour out of him to her, she could as well pour herself back into him. The idea clicked mad and magical all the same to her.

Annie had put her forehead on his and her hands on his neck, and flushed her body to his, and concentrated. And she sang to him with her skin. Little by little the fire was being conquered but it wasn't enough, she rubbed his face with her cheek, she placed small kisses on his jaw, and his ears, and inhaled his hair. And her nose traced soft patterns on his stubble, and all throughout his eyes remained open and frightened on her. Before they knew it, the roles had reversed: and he was but a child scared to the bone of the dark and she was as old as the Earth.

The need for contact grew as his eyes learned to trust her, still dark, still monster-like. Her lips had reached the corner of his mouth and his now bare fingers tried to dig into the flesh of the small of her back. She peeled the layers off of him to garner more area for their skins to touch, for her calmness to reach him. Her soft full lips soon run out for places to kiss on his face but his own lips.

The contact of their mouths didn't faze her; it was part of the healing ritual she was performing, making it up as she went. She had been busy focusing her energy to wonder why the cage of the clothing she died in was so easily shed. It would be many hours later that she would wonder about it, and how natural it all had been. Never before had she so easily stripped for someone else: lovers, doctors and locker-room mates alike. It had always been awkward and clumsy leaving her cheeks with a deep burning red.

Once bare she had covered him with herself, embraced the monster with her arms and her legs. Like a once in a lifetime blooming flower she opened and swallowed him whole to keep safe. She saw a new fear in his eyes and reassured him with her own. "It's okay" her mouth hummed on his. He felt blind in the dark despite his heightened senses.

A blind man trying to find his way home.

She felt him enter her. He may have been the skilled century-old predator but right then and there it was she, with her very brief experience in comparison, who held the lead. Surely Mitchell knew how to seduce and touch a woman, even if just for the reward of her blood, but right then with her, he was but a nearly dead man finding water to calm his thirst.

The decision to give herself whole had been easy. She felt needed with an urgency she never felt before, and just like her tea, she gave her body and soul generously without so much of a second thought.

Gone was her stoicism during sex, she moved against him as an equal, and she was vocal like she had never permitted herself to be. She felt the wave come as his fangs traced circles on the skin of her neck and feeling the need to let him merge with her even more she whispered permission in his ear just like a substitute mother that wouldn't deny her breast to a crying infant to suckle and self-soothe sadly knowing that no life liquid would flow out.

Some need at last was appeased, and his fangs retracted and he lifted his head to look at her. When the wave finally broke for both her eyes didn't close as they normally did. She rode that wave unapologetically looking into his human eyes equally full of wonder and dread.

Finally both sets of eyes had closed. He let her peace guide him to slumber and she went into her trance.

His chest at last let him exhale the relief of the massacre avoided. She had let all of his darkness take her instead. He feared the repercussions, he feared having killed her resilience and lovely naiveté but he was truly grateful for the sacrifice she had performed. For the gift she had given him: to be able to retain his soul.

"Could… You turn around please?" She had finally said.

He was relieved to hear her speak and saddened by what he interpreted as her shame.

"Sure." He replied "Annie… I'm… Jesus…" He fumbled for words.

"It's okay" she interrupted, not ready to go there just yet. "I just need to put on my clothes."

The sweetness of her innocence (thank God it was still there) made his non-beating heart bleed. It was so much like Annie to ask him to turn around to cover her nudity, after what he had seen.

After where he had been.

The images and the sensations forever seared into the most inner tenderness in his chest.

And so, like Eve and Adam before them they covered their bodies in silence with the sadness of knowing they were just cast out of Paradise.

With his pants on and nothing more, and only once he deemed it was enough time for her, he stood and turned around. Her tank top and leggings were on and she was slipping the grey knitted boots back on.

"Listen… I'm so…" He started to say.

"Don't mention it." She said standing up and circling the bed until she was at a safe distance.

"What you did… I would have… If not…" He tried once more, needing her to know that she had saved him and save them all.

"I know. Don't beat yourself up for this."

She knew him too well.

"It's just…"

"Shhh." She silenced him with her finger on his lips.

They both heard the door slam and George's happy steps on the stairs.

"That's George, I better go."

"Thank you" He said.

And without thinking she replied:

"Any time" and cringed when she noticed her choice of words. She disappeared embarrassed for the implication. And he smiled at the normalcy of her blunder.

"That's my Annie alright." He thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: You know the drill. Not mine at all.**

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Mitchell was still pondering upon her choice of words when George came into his room tapping lightly on the door.

"Hey mate, are you busy?"

"What? No, of course not, you want to talk about something?" He replied noticing George's improved demeanor. "Everything alright with Nina? You look… Content."

"Yeah… I guess I am… We talked and I think it's going to be okay."

"I'm glad George." He was in all honesty happy for his friend.

"Where's Annie? Is she in the kitchen? I didn't see her coming in." He took a moment and looked around the room. "What were you doing anyways?" He said focusing on the bed as something seemed to click. "Did you have somebody stay over?" He said finally with a smirk.

"Were you looking for me George? I heard you say my name." Annie said appearing in the room and avoiding Mitchell's stare.

"Ah! Annie. I was wondering where you were. Did Mitchell kept you up all night?" He said nonchalantly.

"What? Why? What did you say?" Annie mumbled panicking and looking at Mitchell who looked truly innocent.

"She doesn't sleep George! Remember?" Mitchell said to his friend, preoccupied that the misunderstanding was going to put it all out in the open before they had had time to figure out exactly what had just happened.

"I meant that he probably bothered you with all that banging!" George clarified to Annie unaware of what it sounded like to his two house mates.

"Mitchell!" She yelled now livid at what she thought George meant.

"George, what the hell are you talking about man?" said Mitchell worried and trying to avoid Annie's murdering eyes.

"Well, it is obvious that you had someone stay over. This room is a mess! Did you see the lady in question Annie?" He said bending over attracted by something slightly hidden under the bed.

Annie figured out what George was thinking and sighed relieved looking at Mitchell who was giving her a tiny complicit smile.

"No! It's not messy…er than usual. It's always like this. What makes you think I had someone over?" Mitchell asked turning back to George.

"Well, it is not the normal Mitchell's mess. It's more the 'I had a fabulous shag' sort of disarray, and there's of course this little number over here". He said picking up a small piece of grey cotton.

"Somebody seems to have left her knickers behind. Unless there is some news you've been meaning to tell us Mitchell. I guess these pants could fit you."

It was now Mitchell's turn to be livid.

"No I don't! Give me that!" And he ripped the offending garment from his hands and stuffed it in his pocket. Annie was looking away trying to conceal her absolute panic.

"Oh Mitchell. Such a gentleman! Somewhere down the street is a poor girl doing the walk of shame in last night's clothes and no knickers on!" He said barely containing his laughter.

"George! How can you say that to Annie!" Mitchell was visibly upset now, as he got closer to George.

"I beg your pardon?" Said his friend confused as Annie yelled horrified.

"Mitchell!

"I, I, I… I mean…" His hand was going through his hair trying to backpedal. "I mean… Annie has to wear the same clothes all the time. That was insensitive George!" He finally said feigning indignity.

"I'm sorry Annie" George said to her.

"It's okay. Don't mention it." Annie said relieved once more.

"I was just trying to make a joke. I don't know why you are both so gloomy today when I am ecstatic."

"I guess you had sex then. You are only this giddy when you do." Mitchell said.

"Yeah." Annie agreed. "And it normally it doesn't last that long."

"What? The giddiness or George?" Mitchell asked entertained now that the tables had turned. "I guess that would be a question for Nina."

Annie giggled.

"See! You are always teasing me about it and when I do that to you, you act all offended. But now that you have turned it back at me it's all shits and giggles! Wait. What's that on your back?"

"What? What do you mean?" Mitchell said as he turned a little trying to get a glance of his back and revealing a few fresh red marks on it.

Annie was mortified, but as she looked at the floor she thanked god for her inability to blush.

"You got yourself a feisty one, didn't you?" It was George's turn to tease. Annie didn't miss a slight smug lopsided grin in Mitchell's face.

"What is it with you men and comparing notes of your sexual adventures? And it's not about you making the women… happy… It's just who's better at it!"

"Oh Annie… I'm sorry. It was very insensitive of me to talk about my and Mitchell's sex like when you… um…" George said trying to appease her.

"When I what?" replied Annie walking menacingly to George.

"When, it's been … a while… right?" He said unsure.

"George!" Both Mitchell and Annie yelled in unison.

"I'm sure you have your… needs… I don't know if ghosts get PMT but lately you make me think ghost ovulating is possible. That reminds me… Mitchell, can ghosts have sex?"

Mitchell doubled over in a nervous coughing fit.

"Argh! I really can't take this anymore. I'm not talking about my sex life in front of you!" Annie was now furious.

"Of all the people that could have rented this place! Why, oh why couldn't I have gotten a fairy and a witch? It could have been corseted period dramas with Colin Firth 24/7! And I would never ever have to watch The Real Hustle!" She yelled as she stormed out of the bedroom.

"I'll be in the kitchen making tea when all the male stupidity wears off! And I'm not having PMT George so don't even go there."

"Mitchell... Are there?"

"No." His friend quickly noted.

"Now you've done it George." Said Mitchell putting on a shirt and leaving the room making sure to pat George's back as he walked by.

"Though" he added turning around right at the threshold. "Colin Firth in a corset. I'd watch that even if just because of my morbid curiosity."

* * *

Annie was busy making tea and trying to avoid thinking of anything that had happened in the last 12 hours when both boys entered the kitchen with equal sheepish stares.

"Here you go George. Mitchell." She said handing the cups over. She couldn't look directly at Mitchell and neither could he.

"I'm sorry Annie. Really. I'll just stop talking altogether about sex." George told her.

"Good. So how's Nina?" Annie replied accepting the olive branch.

"Brilliant. I think we're good... I think we're really good as a matter of fact."

"I got the idea from all the giddiness." Annie said with a wide honest smile.

"How about you. How was the fair? I know you were planning to go and do your usual people watching. You had it marked on the calendar and everything."

"Ah, it was… okay."

"Really? That's it? Okay? You normally have so much more to say about it. You have all those observations about how people looked."

"They looked… Okay… Happy… Alive." Mitchell coughed up his tea nervously at the word. George looked back suspiciously.

"I mean that they were all fantastic." Annie said with her silly smile, the one she put on when she tried to lie unsuccessfully.

"Oh no Annie!" George complained shaking his head.

"What? Annie asked half confused and half annoyed.

"If you are giving me that smile it means that you have some sort of Annie shenanigans going on and we'll be up to our eyeballs with you trying to play matchmaker with the neighbors or with a litter of stray cats for a week."

"First of all George, my father's name is Frank Sawyer, not George Sands. And second, there's nothing going on. No brilliant ideas, no projects, no nothing. Last night was just boring. People watching was boring! Only that and nothing else."

"Okay, once more. I'm sorry."

"Well that's good." Annie said dropping the issue when she noticed something sticking out of Mitchell's pocket and looked back at him horrified. He caught her stare and her not so subtle indication at it just as George was telling them something trivial.

"Are you listening?" He asked annoyed at his friends for ignoring him.

"What? Yeah of course… Lovely weather." Mitchell said.

"What? I wasn't saying anything about the weather." George said offended turning around and opening the fridge to get the milk. Mitchell took the opportunity to fumble with the underwear and pass it to Annie who promptly stuffed it in her sleeve.

"Argh… We're out of milk again. Couldn't anybody else bother to do the shop once in a while?" He asked looking at them and shaking the almost empty carton.

"Well… I'm dead" Annie replied.

"I guess that is the last bit of giddy George." Mitchell joked infuriating his mate.

"Whatever. I'm going to have a shower." Said George as he went upstairs leaving Annie and Mitchell in an awkward silence.

After a while Mitchell cleared his throat and attempted a conversation.

"Annie… I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have…" He started to say.

"What? Spare the life of our neighbors?" Annie interrupted raising an eyebrow.

"No! Of course I'm glad they are all alive!"

"Good. Then there's nothing to worry about. No one got hurt."

"No one?" He asked in a transparent code.

"I'm alright. Not a vampire and… wait… I AM dead, but the good news is you didn't do it." She replied over acting and checking her neck for wounds and a non-existent pulse.

"But I did do something, didn't I?" Mitchell asked getting closer to her and holding at the sleeve of her grey cardigan.

"WE did something Mitchell. Please don't start with the vampire guilt. I'm not in the mood." She turned around to place the empty mugs in the sink

"Annie this is serious."

"It is. You needed something last night that I was happy to give. I was there to help you and it was good to be able to save someone for once. It's nice to feel useful and… needed."

"Annie… You cannot define yourself by what you do for others. I don't want to do that to you." There was a twinge of fear in his voice now.

"It was a conscious decision Mitchell. End of discussion. And it was a good thing too."

"Was it?" He said slightly pleased.

"No!" She replied annoyed.

"No?" He said a little hurt.

"I mean, yes it was bloody good. But that is not what I meant. I meant that it was good to feel more in charge of myself, of my body. I was always so passive about everything in my life before. I never really lived. I never even had a one-night stand. I was so bloody naïve!"

"That is not necessarily a bad thing" He said brushing her hair behind her ear.

"And besides, it is good to know that the last person I've slept with is not a murderer." She said without thinking but suddenly the implication became clear to her. He looked pained knowing her statement wasn't true and he abruptly let go of her hair.

"I mean, MY murderer." She said now touching his cheek and reassuring him.

"Good save." He said with a sad smile.

"It's just that I don't think of you in that way." She tried to make him feel better.

"But that is what I am Annie."

"That is what you WERE. And thanks to me, that is still in your past." She added.

"Yes. And I'm forever grateful. I really am." He was now very close to her and they both could feel something igniting. The feeling was so overwhelming that Annie felt the need to lighten the mood.

"On the other hand… I'm the slag with no underpants."

That made him laugh.

"You, Annie Sawyer, are no slag. And I should know. Those are not the pants of a slag."

"They're not?" She asked playfully.

"No, those are very nice. Very you by the way" He said pointing at her sleeve where the dark grey panties rested. They were cotton and simple. Boy-short cut with two pink lace vertical lines that ended in two tiny bows.

"Very me?" She asked with suspicion. "Because they're grey?"

"No! Because they are simple, and comfortable, and feminine, and sexy without trying too hard."

Annie was flattered.

"Well, at least I don't have to live for eternity in the thong I was killed for." She said smiling.

"No. These are much better." He said kissing her forehead and leaving her with her all-so-confusing thoughts in the kitchen.

Annie thought, maybe for the first time, that it was a good thing she didn't sleep at night while the boys did because she anticipated she'd have plenty of things to ponder upon.


	3. Chapter 3

**These characters are still borrowed.**

* * *

Nothing had really changed between them but there was an unspoken boundary set when it came to the physicality of their interactions.

George noticed.

Everything seemed normal. They would laugh and tease but when in the past both the ghost and the vampire had been very comfortable touching, they now appeared to respect more of each other's personal space. It had become clear for him the night they had shared watching the telly together. Mitchell was sitting to the right side of the couch while George was on the left. Annie came carrying her trademarked teacups and handed them over. After receiving his own, George noticed how Annie's actions were more deliberate, she had handed the cup to Mitchell avoiding the touch of his fingers, and he had seemed to do the same. In the past Mitchell would have even pulled Annie down on his lap to take something from her.

"What did you do to Annie?" Asked George when she had gone back to the kitchen to fetch her own cup.

"What do you mean?" Mitchell asked in response with a hint of worry.

"Well obviously something happened because you both are acting very strangely around each other."

"I don't know what you mean, everything it perfectly normal between us." He said reassuringly.

"And that is how I know something is wrong. You are too normal. It's like you're both following a script or something of how flatmates are supposed to interact when we're anything but normal."

"What does the supernatural have to do with any of this?" Mitchell asked exasperated.

"Nothing! You really think the supernatural is the only thing keeping the household not normal? It's really embarrassing to be this naïve at your age."

"Your condescending tone never ceases to annoy me." Mitchell replied.

"Whatever. Before she comes back. Spill."

"Everything is fine George." His tone was getting more and more upset.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll wait for Annie to tell me what you did."

"What I did?" He asked.

"What are you boys talking about?" Annie intervened approaching them

"Nothing." They replied in unison.

Annie started sitting down wedging herself in between George and the arm of the sofa.

"Annie!" George wailed.

"What? I'm just sitting down. Don't get your knickers in a bunch."

"Do you have to sit on me?" He asked while their mate watched half delighted.

"No! You're supposed to scoot over. Didn't anyone teach you manners?"

"Pot? Kettle? Ring any bells? Sit next to Mitchell, there's plenty of space there, you know? Are you now afraid of catching vampirism or, I don't know, some exotic strain of supernatural gonorrhoea?"

"George! I don't have STDs!" Now it was Mitchell's turn to have his voice raise a few octaves.

"Well, I don't understand why you're not sitting next to each other." The werewolf explained.

"Why do I have to sit in between you guys? I don't recall it being written down in the house rule book or something." Annie complained.

"Well, I want you to sit in the middle because at some point one of us is going to start cuddling with the next person and, no offense mate, I rather not cuddle with Mitchell."

"None taken, bro."

"Is that what we do?" Annie asked worried.

"Yes Annie, that's what we do, I cuddle with you or you cuddle with Mitchell or you cuddle with both, but Mitchell and I don't cuddle with each other."

"I seem to recall an exception the night we watch 'The Notebook'"

"Urgh, don't bring that up!" Mitchell complained. "It was a long movie and it was boring and I was tired! I didn't know I had fallen asleep on George's shoulder!"

"That's exactly why we need you to sit in between us."

"Okay fine! But you have to agree that there is something seriously sick about our house dynamics." Annie said at last.

"Well, add that to the list. Now, you kiss and make up with Mitchell so we can watch the film."

"I've already told you George, we're not fighting!" Said Mitchell with exasperation.

"What did he tell you?" Annie asked turning to look at him.

"That apparently there's some… weirdness between us."

"Exhibit A: You avoiding Mitchell and treating him like a leper."

"I am not!" Annie protested.

"Why am I always the one with horrible diseases?" asked Mitchell.

"It's called a figure of speech!" George explained.

"I think everything is perfectly normal." Added Annie.

"Again with the normality! Since when have we all been anything remotely similar to normal? "

"Okay George, fine. I think I just been thinking too much about my interactions with you both and thought that I had to take a step back. I know I'm too nosy and clingy and touchy feely. I was just respecting your personal space."

"That's silly Annie." Mitchell argued.

"No it's not. It's the truth." George commented. "But that's who you are. I'm going to ignore the fact that you imply it's about me as well when you don't seem to worry about my personal space but only Mitchell's."

"Fine! Look I'm sitting down in the middle! And look I'm holding Mitchell's hand and I'm not catching syphilis!"

"Oi! I have feelings too! I'm not a leper and I don't have STDs. Put the bloody movie on!"

A couple of nights after the whole movie fiasco Annie had gone out at night to wander the streets and think. The boys had started to accept it as another one of her idiosyncrasies and let her be but reminding her to be careful. It sounded so idiotic to her. What could happen really? But that was the perfect explanation of why wandering the streets of Bristol at night was important to her. She had felt so sheltered growing up, so caught up in the image of what she should be. She had never walked at night on her own because it was deemed too dangerous. The biggest joke was that her demise had come in the shelter of her own house. At night, in the deserted streets, she felt free and powerful. She could walk for miles thinking until dawn would find her and wake her from her reverie.

She had still been ruminating the changing nature of her and Mitchell's relationship. It was still the same, best friends but still slightly different of how her friendship with George was. They had not talked anymore of what had happened and everything had gone back to the usual with the sole exception of physicality. Closeness was now painfully obvious to both and their interactions seemed over thought and analyzed.

The first light of the day had not yet broken but it loomed near when a sudden screeching of tires caught her attention. She was just in time to see the car crash against a pole. She ran instinctively to try to help the three figures inside slumped over. She tried to open the door unsuccessfully until she noticed the absence of movement. It was clear now that it was too late to try to help the figures inside.

The thought had barely started to form inside her head when she felt someone pulling at her arm. She turned to see the former people from the car in their ghost state and as she was about to start her explanation to calm them down and point them towards the next step in their journey, she realized they didn't seem to need any help.

"You're quite a pretty thing aren't you?" One of them asked in a way that unnerved her.

"Let go of my arm." She replied sternly.

"Aren't you going to guide us to our afterlife?" Another one asked.

She saw the doors

"Let me go!" Annie yelled when she knew what they intended to do.

"Oh! But we could have so much fun! I've heard you like to play hard to get." She was backing up as the three of them were tugging at her sleeves.

"Those are not my doors. You can't make me go!"

"Well dear, rumour has it you don't like your door so much."

Run. The word was being yelled inside her head.

"That's not where I belong!"

"Well this is not where you belong either, so you're coming with us."

The struggle was now getting truly violent.

"Let me go! She said running and letting them keep the grey knitted cardigan.

"Oh, you can run Annie. But you're going to get caught! Anyone can see you lately? I've heard you used to work at a pub but everyone started ignoring you!"

They knew how to get her attention. She turned slightly still trying to get away.

"George and Mitchell can see me!" She yelled trying to convince them as well as herself.

"Yes… But for how long?" One of the cruel men taunted.

She was running away now, but she still heard them talk to her.

"You fan of Kundera Annie? Can you feel 'The unbearable lightness of being'?"

"You look a little pale, or is it see-through? One day they'll let go of your hand and you're going to levitate like a helium balloon and no one is going to catch you." Another voice said.

"She'll be gone, gone, gone."

Annie ran as fast as she could, she could feel the tears prickling her eyes and the fear caught in her throat.

Soon enough she had reached Windsor Terrace. She just needed to find her boys, let them tell her those had been just lies. It was still dark but she could hear sounds from inside the house, the sounds of people getting ready to get to work.

Unbeknownst to Annie, George had already left a couple of hours before, but Mitchell was coming out of the shower and he was starting to dress just as she was going for the doorknob. She couldn't grab it. She went through the door even more frightened.

As she ran up the stairs she felt herself fading, she was trying to call for her friends but no sound was coming out of her mouth. Reaching the top, the momentum made her slam against the wall just as Mitchell was now dressed and coming out of the bathroom towards his room. His eyes looked up and they lined up with her own, she thought it would take a moment for him to take in the state of fear she was in, but very soon Mitchell's eyes looked down and he walked past her and into his room.

Annie felt a deep despair grab her and fill her with vertigo. Somehow she got herself into Mitchell's room and lunged herself through the door. She landed on her knees and the scream she had been silently holding made her breath in more violently than she had predicted. The resulting sound was a sad wail. Mitchell turned as she hit the floor and let go of all the repressed sound. He got down immediately to gather her in his arms.

"Annie! Annie!"

She looked at him and he was able to see the panic in her face. Her arms were bare and he could notice scratch marks on them. The sight made the borrowed blood in his veins boil.

"Tell me what happened? Who did this?" She felt him starting to let go and saw the strong bone of his jaw tense; his eyes going black with rage.

"No! Don't leave me please!"

"It's okay sweetheart. I won't leave you. What happened?" It was hard for him to keep calm when he wanted to murder whoever had hurt her.

"They tried to take me." She was now in full hysterics.

"Who's they?" He asked begging for a name. That's all he needed. Someone had to pay.

"The guys in the car, the crash, they were pulling me to their doors."

"Annie, listen, love, did they hurt you?" He kept reminding himself mentally to focus on Annie. There would be time to deal with the culprits.

"I'm okay, they pulled me and scratch me a little, but I'm okay. I'm not hurt. But they said…" Whenever she remembered what they had said she'd feel herself falling down a great abyss.

"What did they say?" He asked gently.

"I'm fading Mitchell! I'm going to disappear!"

"No, no. They were lying, you're not going anywhere."

"They did, and they are right. I couldn't grab the handle and you didn't see me. You can't see me! George won't be able to see me." He was only half understanding everything she said without the proper context, but it was enough to understand her fear.

"I can see you, and I can hear you. Calm down Annie please!"

Mitchell held her tight and reached for his mobile in his back pocket and called George.

"George, mate. I need a favour… Yes, yes it's Annie. She's fine now… I got her… Tell them I'm sick… She can't be alone right now. It's okay. I got her… Yes…Yes… No, I don't think you need to… Listen, I think she's going to need someone here all the time. We can't leave her alone… Better you stay at work now and then I'm going to switch my shift tomorrow… Okay mate, yes… I'll ring you. Bye."

Annie heard Mitchell talk with George. It was easy to fill in the gaps. She didn't feel the energy to intervene and say that she was okay and didn't need their worry. She could be strong later, right now she needed to feel solid, to know she was truly there and that she wouldn't be going anywhere. In other circumstances she would have argued that it wasn't such a big deal but what she was feeling was much more powerful.

"Okay Annie. I'm here and I'm not going to leave. Calm down darlin'."

"I'm fading, I can feel myself going away and they are going to get me Mitchell, they're mad at me for not going through my door!"

It was something else that was his fault. The tears were running down her cheek now and it was his fault. She had given up on her door for him.

"You're not disappearing, I can see you love. I can see you." He needed to save her now.

"But you couldn't before, I was screaming and you looked right through me and you didn't hear me, I couldn't hear me either."

"I can feel you now, focus on this Annie, look at me. I can see you. Can you feel my hand on your face? I can feel you, I can feel how soft your skin is."

He kissed her forehead.

"Can you feel that? I kissed your forehead and I felt it. Can you feel me? Can you really feel me?" He asked looking for her eyes.

"Yes I can. Mitchell…"

She had found her hope in him and she desperately needed as much as she could get.

She lunged forward into him almost knocking him down.

She kissed him hard and poured all her desperation into it, as if performing an experiment, trying to gauge just how much she could feel and not worrying at all of the implications.

"Annie…" He said understanding her need.

"I want to feel Mitchell. I need to feel something."

He couldn't deny her anything.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Not mine.**

**With time I'll go back and properly edit all this. Thank you for your understanding.**

**I was listening to Nina Simone's "Feeling good" very sensual song. Highly recommended.**

**And, I'd be more than grateful if you could leave me a comment. I put a lot of thought into this one and with it being a sex scene and all, I'm feeling insecure.**

**:)**

* * *

"I'm here. Okay. Close your eyes. Trust me. What am I doing Annie?"

"Mitchell…" She begged.

"Just tell me Annie"

"You're running your hands down my arms." She complied.

Something started growing out form the ground beneath her.

"I am. You can feel it then. What am I doing now?"

"You're kissing my neck."

The pull was evident; the earth was claiming her now.

"And now?"

"Your hand… It's under my shirt."

"And can you feel this?" Certain malice was curving up the corners of his mouth, invisible to her behind her closed lids.

"You're… tickling me. No! Don't do that please!" A level of cheeriness was coming back to her voice and he couldn't quite understand why it always made something in his chest go warm and soft. There were some memories from his past, vague and distant, but he thought that the laughter in her voice made him feel like when he was a kid and sometimes he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"It's okay, I'm not going to torture you. You felt it though right?" He asked looking at her dark lashes flutter open. "Ah! Don't peek. I'll know if you're cheating."

He put his arms around her waist and started pulling both from the ground as he kissed her slowly. Once they were standing his right hand went up and cradled her neck while the other one closed tighter around her lower back. He didn't have to ask this time but she felt the solidity of his body, the decision of every muscle against her.

She was earthbound now; a sensual part of it all.

He broke the kiss and set his forehead against hers and looked at her eyes with intensity just as she opened hers.

"What did I tell you about those eyes? He let his hands slide down to grab the edge of her tank top and slowly lift it up until it was off her.

"Can you feel the cotton against your skin? Is it soft?"

"Yes" She said as she made her hands go to the first button of this shirt.

"What are you doing?" She instinctively let go.

"No, I didn't say you should stop. Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm taking off your shirt."

"Can you feel the texture of the fabric? Tell me"

" I can feel it's old and worn."

"Hmm, it is."

Soon they had gone through the rest of the clothes. And with each item they took turns describing their sensations, every single one heightened by the need to put into words, to savour each one in their mouths and utter them against warm skin or tracing them with their tongues.

His hands went to her hips and he nudged them to let him pick her up. Her legs wrapped around his torso instinctively. He walked effortlessly carrying her while he kissed her passionately and leaned her against a wall, the open window was near and she could feel the draft. He separated from her slightly for his thumb to find a pebbled nipple.

"Can you feel the cold coming from outside?"

His voice was so deep. Like a tremor of a shaking earth.

"Yes!"

She had been caged all this time when she was something wild.

"Can you feel me touching you?"

"Yes!"

She didn't need him to remind her to keep her eyes closed now.

Mitchell knew that he had to be the skilful lover he could be.

All those years of anonymous bodies and forgettable mouths. All that fodder for this moment. For this delicious sacrifice.

She was the earth goddess he'd happily immolate himself to.

She needed to have her senses overwhelmed and he knew he could make her heart beat again if only for a few seconds.

If Annie had been feeling lighter than air before, afraid of the earth losing its hold on her she now felt so heavy and full. The air around them was thick and almost too much to bear. Her body ached with a primeval need. Never before had she felt more alive or more human, with the grittiness and messiness of life, a life that wanted to expand and suffocate everything and everyone else left around.

He had done his job well. He could feel her near him blooming and ready. He was using all his restrain just for her. She was pure instinct now; her body undulated looking for relief. There was barely any space left between them and they were both going into sensory overdrive. Against her nipples the soft down of the hair on his chest and in the valley between her breasts the silver, cold and heavy of the chain around his neck.

She was becoming bigger than everything else. Soon she was almost sure she'd be able to feel through him and through every object in the room. Just like the subtle and constant movement of the world their bodies were lining up to their rightful place.

She felt like the universe creating itself.

Her hands wandered without needing him to guide her with his words anymore; instead he used his mouth to wrap itself around an eager breast.

In her blind search she found him and it took him every ounce of strength not to give in.

"Mitchell…" She said half sighing half pleading.

"I can feel you Annie." He said almost gone. She had guided him home with her hand.

He didn't need an invitation to cross her threshold anymore.

His rhythm was slow, almost too slow to bear.

"Can you feel me, love?"

She said yes without words.

"Open your eyes now. Look at me." She complied. He needed her to see into his eyes and plant an important notion in her mind. He was running out of time, he needed to say it before he couldn't anymore.

"This is what's real Annie… Nothing else" His rhythm was picking up by now and both were sighing.

"Say it to me Annie… Tell me that you can feel this for real."

They were looking into each other eyes unapologetically.

There was not a secret left anymore.

"It's real, this is real…" She said wanting to please him; to give him whatever he wanted from her.

There were no more words to say, language had been destroyed, used up. Whatever else their bodies would spell.

Only a word remained in her mind: his name.

And with his name on her lips she exploded and soon after he did as well.

She was made of earth now, rivers ran through her veins and the creating wind was born among the curls of her head.

She let herself go.

He slowly took them both to the bed in such a painfully sweet way. He was so careful with her, he had done everything in his power to let herself believe nothing would rip her away of this world, but the way his body clung to her, anchoring to the earth, made her wonder if he was just as fearful about someone taking her away.

He had pulled the sheet over their bodies; under it an idle hand was tracing circles on her thigh. Every ghostly cell of her body was sensitive and alert at his touch.

After a while they both turned to lie on their backs in silence. She was counting and memorizing the water stains on the ceiling when she felt him push himself slightly from the bed. He reached over her to grab something from the night table next to her side.

"Hello there." He said smiling cockily as his chest rubbed against hers and his mouth was just inches away from her lips.

"What are you doing?" She asked when she noticed that he had grabbed his lighter and pack of smokes from the table. "You're not going to smoke now, are you?" She asked frowning.

"I'm most certainly are." He said putting a cigarette in his lips and sitting up until he was leaning against the headboard.

"You can't do that" Said Annie as she mimicked his position.

"Why not? It's tradition! You know, after…" He couldn't quite finish the sentence and he felt silly for he had never worried too much of his choice of words, but with her it was almost as he was going to start giggling at a bad word like a child.

"Christ." He thought. I'm too old to feel this vulnerable and disarmed.

"It's disgusting and unhealthy… and… disrespectful." She explained. There was something about them getting on stupid discussions of inane trivialities, perhaps subconsciously erecting a wall to separate them from the previous earth shattering events.

"You and I are both dead my dear. And I doubt it would make a difference." She was still not smiling.

He was a 116-year-old mass murderer and she could best him with a stare.

"Urgh! Okay. But there's something I need to warn you about." He said getting closer and looking intently into her eyes.

"What is that?" She asked cautiously.

"I have an oral fixation." He said with a lopsided smile while he snaked his arm behind her back and pulled her to him.

"You'll have to give me something to distract my mouth with." He said pulling her into a kiss.

When they pulled apart he kept his forehead on hers. Even before the new nature of their relationship the forehead thing had started being a staple of their interaction. Some sort of intangible connection seemed to develop and feed off the intense stares of those furtive moments.

They separated and she moved to try to find a comfortable position. When he pulled her she had found herself cradled in between his legs and securely wrapped in his arms. Besides the comfort issues, she felt an unbearable electrical currant flowing through her veins which fed off the intensity of his eyes on hers. She needed a respite from it, to break the power of his stare and hide her own eyes, afraid that he'd be able to read every secret thought. He smiled at her task of finding her place in his arms.

"Careful down there" He said when in her fumbling the roundness of her bum brushed against his more sensitive spot. She froze in place. He laughed that low throaty laugh of his and decided to help her by moving her like a doll until her back was flush against his chest. She relaxed and let her head fall against him over his shoulder and he inhaled the smell of her hair in the crook of her neck.

After a few minutes he rested his chin on her shoulder and finally spoke:

"Are you going to tell me now what happened?" Gone was the former playfulness of his voice, just as if he had lured her to this place of calm and safety amid his stubborn arms.

She sighed sorely.

"I told you."

"Tell me in depth now." He commanded while running the tip of his nose slowly against her shoulder.

"I was walking and I saw an accident. A car crashed against a pole. I went there, I thought I could help but they had all died. Three… They were three… I thought I could help them pass on… But they held on to me and tried to get me to their doors. It was Saul all over again… But worse."

Sometimes she hated herself, her uselessness. The need she always felt to run to him for protection.

Someone had forged that nasty idea of her weakness to her mind.

He could feel the anger rushing inside him, but remained silent or she'd stop talking.

"They were taunting me. When they couldn't take me. I told them you and George could see me and they said you wouldn't anymore."

"And you know that is a lie." He interrupted; offended at the implication that one day he'd let her disappear.

"But it's not. It really isn't a lie, is it Mitchell? I came home and couldn't hold the doorknob and then you just went past me. You couldn't hear me either."

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." He truly was and Annie felt bad for this.

"It's not your fault."

"I won't let them take you. And you'll never be invisible to me again." He vowed.

"You can't promise me that."

She said pulling her head up from him and the action hurt him.

"I can and I will. The Irish don't quit."

"Thank you." She said conceding, letting her fear go to a deeper place.

"I don't want you to walk around at night on your own." He said after a few minutes, gently pulling her back against him.

"Mitchell…" She protested at the thought but not to the action.

"No, I'm serious. What would George and I have done without you? What if we never even have known what happened to you?" It was now his turn to show his helplessness.

"It's not safe for you to be out on your own. You're not going out." He said finally, like he was casting a prophecy to stone. This was the way he dealt with his fears; this was the way for a man, that's what he had been taught more than a century ago.

"You're going to tell me what to do now?" She asked defiantly and he laughed internally at their ever exchange of roles.

"You know what I mean." he tried to appease.

"First of all…" She started to explain half turning to look into his eyes. By doing this the sheet around her chest slid down slightly.

He immediately cut her off:

"Yes, I know the argument: Your father's name is Frank Sawyer and not John Mitchell."

And as he looked down at her nudity he added:

"And thank God for that."

"Mitchell!" She said looking away embarrassed.

"You're blushing." He stated the obvious and she could hear that annoying male pride.

"I can't blush, I have no blood." She countered.

"No you don't, but I know you and I know what your eyes look like that when you're invisibly blushing."

"Okay fine, I'm blushing. Not all of us can be suave and worldly like you. Check on me in a hundred years when I'm your age. I'll be all cynical and cold and collected."

"No. I want you to still blush when you're my age. And with a little bit of luck I may still be around to make blush then."

Her heart skipped begging for a promise.

"Anyways, you know what I'm thinking just now?" He didn't even waited for her reply. "Pity we don't show in a photograph, I could show George that you have no problem touching poor leper old me."

"Do we need to tell him about this?" She asked.

"Well, you told him you were never going to talk to him about your sex life and I believe you didn't want to hear him talking about his or mine…"

Neither he nor she completed the thought.

It was a minefield.

"Mitchell… can I ask you something?" She finally said relaxing once more against him while his fingers wrote unintelligible words on her inner thigh.

"Anything."

"I need you to be honest. Brutally honest if necessary."

"Ask the question Annie." He commanded her.

"Can you really feel me? I mean. I know you can feel me; feel something… But… do I feel real or am I really just an echo?"

Mitchell wondered if he'd ever be able to erase that fear.

All of her fears, really.

"Annie, look at me." He asked and she complied. "I really can feel you."

"I thought vampires were too vulnerable to the cold. That's why you wear your gloves all the time, right?" Annie said without waiting for his reply. "And I'm as cold as ice. You told me that time when we kissed by accident, that I felt like someone who had just come in from outside.

That's not normal, that's not real."

He recognized the voice inside of her that was torturing her. Not letting her believe something that was possible.

"Annie… We're light years away from that kiss. Yes, at first it feels a little cold, but then it changes. Believe me, you're anything but cold. We wouldn't have this if you were."

"This" The new name for what they couldn't name.

"You believe me right?"

"Yes."

"Why don't I believe you? What's on your mind?"

"Someone told me I feel squishy."

"Who?"

Again that imperative need to find her tormentors.

"Tully." She said knowing his sole mention would unleash his anger.

His jaw locked reawakening an old fury.

"Was it when he scared you?"

"Yes."

"You're real to me. Jesus Christ, you're beyond real. You're perfect."

He finally saw the flicker of hope in her eyes. And he held her closer trying to have her firmly rooted to the same ground as him. Praying internally that he'd be able to keep his promise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: They do not belong to me. **

**I'd love to read any ideas you have about the story and the characters. If really gets me thinking when I read your ideas. **

**I hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

George had spent his workday worried about Mitchell's cryptic message. He had only said 'It's Annie' but by the tone used he knew something was terribly wrong.

He had rushed home from the hospital after cancelling a dinner with Nina, but as much as he had run to reach the door, he found himself dreading whatever it was on the other side. He unlocked the door slowly and came in cautiously. He couldn't detect any sounds (and his hearing was quite good now given the proximity of the full moon). All the lights were out with the exception of a dim lamp in the living room. He approached it slowly and saw Mitchell sitting on the leather sofa with Annie's head on his lap. Once Mitchell caught sight of him he gestured to remain silent. He bent down and kissed the dark curls softly and extricated himself leaving a now apparently sleeping Annie on the couch.

He made a signal to be followed to the kitchen. Once there, and only when he was sure that Annie had not woken up, he spoke:

"Hey mate. I guess you have questions."

"That's an understatement. What happened?" Asked George impatiently.

"Well, apparently Annie witnessed a car crash and the ghosts of the people killed were keen on getting her through one of their doors."

"Like Saul." George added remembering that awful experience.

"Yes… Though, she was a lot more shaken from this. They got to her by saying that soon we won't be able to see her."

"That's ridiculous." George added dismissing the idea.

"Well…" Mitchell was now looking at the floor, beating himself up for something that was truly not his fault.

"What do you mean?"

"She came home, and…" Mitchell's dead heart felt heavier than usual at the thought.

"And what?" George was now feeling anger crawling under his skin. He felt where it was going and he refused to accept the possibility.

"Apparently I couldn't see her, and she couldn't speak… After it happened…" Mitchell was running a hand through his hair, feeling every bit as old as each one of the years he carried with him. "She came back to the house. You were gone and I was getting ready… It was only momentarily… She was there and I didn't see her mate…" Mitchell let his fist hit the countertop. "But it really did a number on her."

"God…" It was all George could muster.

"Thankfully she's calm now, I was actually amazed she let herself doze off."

"Is that the first time she sleeps?"

"That I know of… Yes."

"Wow… What's that? Two years without even a wink? So much for sleeping when you're dead." The thought scared George.

"I know she's afraid of dreaming. Though now, I think it was just too much. At least she seems calm and not restless."

"What did you do to help her calm down?" George inquired.

"Ah… Just talk to her, be with her…" Mitchell answered while he busied himself picking up mugs and taking them to the sink. "Right now she seems to really need to see us and having us hold her hand. She needs contact, she's afraid that if we're not looking at her or touching her she's going to disappear."

"Poor thing." George said as he looked in the direction of Annie.

"Though I have a theory"

"And?"

"She seems to be affected by her confidence status. She's empowered and she's solid, humans can even see her. She gets taunted and she's invisible. Now, they seemed to have really affected her to the point of us not being able to see her. At least that's the only explanation I can think of for why I couldn't see her."

George took a couple of moments to digest the theory.

"So, what do you suggest? A self-esteem seminar for spirits?"

"Don't be daft." Mitchell said with a frown of his expressive eyebrows.

"Well, I really…"

"Mitchell?" Annie interrupted coming through the beaded curtain into the kitchen with a full head of unruly curls.

"Annie?" George said going to her immediately.

"George!" Annie went directly for a hug.

"Annie… I'm so sorry sweetheart." He said combing her hair with his fingers.

"Thank you, I feel better now."

"We're never leaving you. You know that right? We're not letting you go, you did tell her that right Mitchell?" He asked looking over Annie's head to a worried Mitchell.

"He did, and I know." Annie said without letting go from her other best friend.

"So what do we do now?" George asked as Annie was finally letting go of him. The question was for everyone and nobody in particular.

"I don't know, nothing I guess." Annie said.

"Well, we'll make sure that someone is always with you." Mitchell said, his tone indicating an order more than a suggestion.

"I think I was just exaggerating. It wasn't that bad really." It was Annie's personality, to try to make it better, to not give herself so much attention.

"Annie." Mitchell knew what she was doing. It was one of Annie's traits that could really upset him.

"Let's just drop it. Can I make you guys some tea?" She asked deflecting and not really waiting for a response.

They both let it go and gave Annie the satisfaction of making things better through her tea.

"So George, I thought you were going to Nina's tonight." She asked as she set the kettle on the stove.

"I needed to make sure you were alright." George explained.

"Oh, that's nonsense. You only got back together! It's important to keep intimacy in such a delicate state of a relationship."

"Why does that sound like something out of a girl's magazine?" George asked surprised at Annie's sudden change of mood.

"Because she's been reading your Cosmos." Mitchell explained getting the milk out of the fridge.

"I don't buy Cosmo!"

"No you don't. You have a subscription." Annie explained while getting the mugs from the shelf.

"I have never bought a subscription for Cosmo." George said offended.

"No you haven't. I did, with your credit card." She said with a trademarked Annie smile.

"Annie!"

"I guess I should have let you know about that before." She said nonplussed.

George turned back to his other friend.

"You knew! Why didn't you tell me?" He yelled at Mitchell.

"Cosmo magazine started arriving for Mr. G. Sands. You're my mate George. I really didn't want to have that conversation with you. I didn't know they were Annie's."

"You truthfully believed I'd buy it?"

"You have been known to read 'Martha's Stewart Living' in the past you know?" Annie said giving a cup to Mitchell who was smiling.

"Glad to know I provide the comic relief in this house."

"No George! I love you. I wouldn't give up on the afterlife for anyone but you two." She said hugging George and looking over to Mitchell who was leaning against the counter looking the only people he cared for in the world hug.

"I love you too Annie." Said George remembering how close they'd come again to losing her. He thought about how difficult it had been letting himself like her in the beginning and he smiled remembering how she had sneaked into his heart despite all his efforts.

"And we love you too Mitchell. Even if you don't want a three-way hug." Said Annie without letting go of George.

Mitchell looked on with his contented grin, must of all, glad to see Annie reassured and happy.

* * *

For many people Mitchell's work was as low and disgusting as jobs could get. Day in and day out he'd clean vomit, urine and faeces from the floors. Many female nurses who found him attractive would wonder how someone who looked like him would perform such a terrible task. But they didn't know that Mitchell would rather do this than clean after the bad accident victims. Thankfully he didn't have to clean at the Emergency Room, so it was just the rest of the less 'glamorous' secretions in his line of work.

Not that he really enjoyed it either. Sometimes he even wondered if cleaning up the most basic products of humanity would count in his favour at the end. It was nothing really compared with his evil deeds, but it had to count towards something, wouldn't it?

The main thing was that he could clear his mind. It could go completely blank while he performed just a menial repetitive work.

Not tonight though. He hadn't been able to get to that blank zone for a few days now. It could be that he was still worried about Annie. The fear of losing her consumed him, interrupted only by flashes of memories: the colour of the skin of her hip, the sound of her ghostly sigh, the smell of her curls, the taste of her kisses, the feel of her all around him consuming everything…

He felt too old and too cursed to be so obsessed with those memories. He'd try to chase the lovely glimpses away but like a pendulum of doom his mind would swing back to the fear of doors swallowing her away when she was out of his sight.

His immortality came with the ability to go working and running for days without exhaustion, but the thoughts that were haunting him made his muscles ache. He needed to get home, make sure that Annie was all right and lie down in the couch and watch inane television until he was, once more, a numbed dead corpse.

He had been thinking this all the way home.

As he opened the door and got inside he bumped right into the source of his uneasiness.

"Hey. You were going out?" He asked placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Ah… Yeap." Annie responded over enunciating the final 'p'.

"Is George coming?" He asked looking around for their friend.

"Ah… No…" She said over extending the vowel and keeping her full lips pursed while she looked around the ceiling.

"You were going to go out on your own? Annie!" That was clearly not a question.

"What? I'm 22… Actually I should be 25. And I don't need to ask you permission, or George's!"

"I'm not having this argument right now. Where is he?" He asked walking to the living room and then the kitchen followed by a very disgruntled ghost.

"He left you alone?" He asked visibly upset.

"No! He didn't leave me alone. And I don't need a babysitter." She said pouting. The look on her face almost made Mitchell laugh. Her lips were so full that they were almost always in a pout. But when she really felt wronged her pursed lips almost look over acted in the way a kid's would.

"We've been trough this." He said trying to appease her.

"I know, and I was really scared but I'm fine now. No voices in the telly nor in any other appliances."

"Annie!"

"It's just that I get stir crazy here. I've been here forever and there's nothing new on TV and I've read every single book we own. I'm not kidding."

"Fine! Where is George then?"

"He's in his bedroom… with Nina."

"Ah, great. So he while he's having a shagfest you go out on your own. That's just perfect." Mitchell's voice was higher and he had his arms extended to convey his frustration.

"Oh, leave them be. They're young and in love and that's what you're supposed to do when you're young and in love, you stay in bed as much as you can."  
After she finished saying that they both remained silent, unsure of how to follow that statement.

"Okay then." He finally said letting his arms fall to his sides.

"Okay what?"

"Let's go then."

"Where?" She asked confused.

"What do you mean where? Out! That's what you wanted right?"

"Yes." She said coldly.

"Why don't you look happy? Jesus woman! I'm so damn old and I still cannot get women right. Or is it that you didn't want to go with me?"

"No, it's not that… Well… Maybe it is."

"Oh Annie, you're going to be the death of me. Like death for good." He said now half laughing.

"I just like thinking." She offered.

"I'll tell you what. I promise not to talk. If you really want it I can even walk a few steps behind you."

"Like what? A bodyguard? That's just ridiculous. You can walk with me."

"That settles it then. Go on. Ladies first."

"Are you sure? You look tired."

"Don't really need the sleep, do I?"

And so they went out.

After a good hour of walking aimlessly through deserted streets in silence Annie finally spoke:

"Oh this is ridiculous!"

"Wandering the streets at night in the cold when we could be at home watching something on the telly? Yes it is." He said trying to annoy her.

"No! That's not what I meant. I mean just walking and not talking."

"I thought that was what you wanted. You said you wanted to think."

"Well I wanted to get out. Staying in again to watch the telly is very boring."

"It's not when you have been out all day at work, and may I remind you that I spend my day moping piss and shit?"

"It is when you're me and I can't go to work and I just stay home cleaning the place and picking up after you."

"What are you going to say: 'You never take me anywhere?' When did we turn into a boring old married couple?"

"You never buy me flowers anymore." She asked instead pretending to be a disgruntled wife.

"You spend all my money." He countered.

"You're losing your hair."

"You only care about the kids."

"You snore."

"You stopped shaving your legs."

They were now smiling widely.

"Wow, that doesn't sound good does it? Why are we always envying humans again?" He asked.

"Because it's as lovely as it is awful… And because we can't have it."

Now Annie's smile had disappeared. It made Mitchell sighed with sorrow.

"Yes. That'd be it."

"That's all I ever wanted you know? Nothing more. Like that Gwen Stefani song 'A simple kind of life'? I should have known it was too much to ask. A house, a husband, the kids and the dog. All I wanted was an ordinary life. But it wasn't meant to be for me."

Whatever half-life he had was deserved he thought. But it both angered and saddened him that she had been robbed of so much.

"No. You couldn't have an ordinary life." He said stopping them both and placing himself in front of Annie, close enough for her to have to look him in the eye.

"Because no life that had you could be ordinary."

She couldn't stop a tear starting to form in her eye. He noticed and rubbed it away with his thumb. His fingers slid until they cradled the nape of her neck and looked for her mouth with his.

The kiss was slow and cautious. A kiss to forget a life not lived.

They didn't get to find out what it would lead to, for a voice pierced the night's silence.

"Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell… Are you going to fuck her or feed from her?"

Mitchell turned around to see two vampires: a man and a woman. One of them was someone he knew from decades ago.

"Arthur? What do you want?"

"She looks tender and naïve. Is he messing with your heart as well as with your panties love?" The vampire said to Annie while Mitchell shielded her.

His eyes were now black.

"You don't talk to her. Leave before I have to make you. You don't want to look bad in front of your friend here."

"Sorry to ruin your little con game. You always liked playing with your food, didn't you?" The vampire said ignoring his threat.

"I thought he was on the wagon." Said the female that had been quiet until then looking at Annie with interest.

"Someone told me the mighty John Mitchell was abstaining and I thought that was the most ludicrous lie someone could tell me. And I come here and look what I find out."

"What are you doing in Bristol? I thought you were banished."

"Well, he's dead, isn't he? See, we got wind of it all the way to London and now every fang Herrick scared off is back. It seems Bristol here is a new wild wild west. A town without law is a town with… opportunities."

"She's lovely isn't she? All those bouncy curls!" The female vampire was now coming closer to Annie.

"You do not look at her!"

"Oh Johnny boy, Herrick's golden child. You were never really good at sharing were you?" Arthur taunted.

"She's… different." The female had noticed something.

"How… exotic. A ghost!" Arthur said realizing what Annie was.

"Is this another one of your pets Mitchell? I heard you got yourself a golden retriever."

"You stay the hell away of me and what is mine." Mitchell's fangs descended menacingly.

"Oh, I get it! You're into animals now, you got yourself a dog and now you have a nice little canary."

"How is it biting her? I heard you were going vegan but this is just ridiculous. After having her you must always feel unsatisfied and disappointed. "

"Get away from here." Mitchell barked.

"Herrick is dead Mitchell. And you are probably weakened without proper nourishment. No offense sweetheart." He said looking at Annie who frowned disgusted at the newcomer.

"And it's two of us here. Holly is quite feisty, you know? And I fancy coming back to Bristol to take down Herrick's beloved child who also happens to be the owner of the mutt who killed him. Imagine the street cred it would give me!"

He said launching himself at Mitchell. He was fully prepared hold him by the neck and stop him, but he had to let go of Annie to do so. As he did, he kept an eye on the other vampire who was walking slowly to Annie.

She had been silent all this time. It worried Mitchell, he always worried that this side of him became evident to his friends. He feared them seeing him for what he truly was. Arthur took advantage of the distraction and hit Mitchell releasing himself form his hold, Mitchell had to get his focus back on him but it meant turning his back to Annie.

"Annie go!" He yelled.

The female vampire charged towards Annie. She was seething with the awful things the vampire had implied. She didn't have time to think. She just looked at the woman and let her anger take her. A rubbish container came flying to the vampire and knocked her out.

At the same time Mitchell overpowered Arthur knocking him to the ground.

"Get the fuck out of this town Arthur and take your trash with you." Mitchell said icily.

"Don't get too smug Mitchell. You know it's just a matter of time someone else tries to take over Herrick's operation by mounting a nice wolf head on their mantle."

"That someone would have to take me out first." Mitchell said feeling a murderous anger pump in his veins.

"Exactly." Said the fallen vampire with an evil grin.

Mitchell took Annie's hand and walked away almost incapable to tame the demon in his blood. The threats had awakened him; it was the blind fury that had fueled the legend of John Mitchell, the vampire who had killed countless humans and vampires alike.

Only when they had gotten right outside of their house Mitchell had let his eyes go back to normal. He turned around and addressed Annie for the first time since the encounter.

"Are you all right?" He asked concerned.

"I am." She said quietly.

"That was my fault." He said apologetically.

"Were they saying the truth? Is someone going to come for George and you?" She asked with dread.

"I won't let them Annie. And most wouldn't dare messing with me."

"You mean 'what is yours'?"

"That's what I need them to think." He explained.

"We're your property now? Your pets then?" She asked afraid of this other side of the person she thought she knew the best.

"No. You know I don't think like that. But I rather they do. Vampires are not good at sharing. And we can be vicious when we feel wronged."

She brushed the curls out of his face. She could see fear in his eyes, not for other vampires, but for the thoughts in her mind, which he could not reach.

"I believe you." She said reassuring him.

"We just can't catch a break do we?" She added.

He pulled her closely and kissed her forehead.

"I'll make sure we do, darlin'. Let's go inside."

He truly hope he'd be able to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

**AN: I haven't re-watched the second season so I know I'm taking many liberties and making up a ton of things. But anyways, this is not intended to be clinically accurate but to give us an idea of what could have been.**

**Don't be shy and leave a comment. Tell me what you think and what you don't like, that will surely encourage me to keep on writing.**

**Thanks to everyone who has commented so far and shared your wonderful ideas with me.**

* * *

"Oh my god! Where were you I was worried sick!" George's shriek welcomed them to the house as he ran down the stairs in his robe.

"Were you really George? I came home and she was going out and you didn't even notice us leaving. Was Nina showing you too much of a good time?" Mitchell was suddenly consumed with exasperation, taking out on his friend all the emotions of the night: from work, to Annie, to vampire politics.

"Ahem…" Nina cleared her throat coming down the stairs in a more natural manner, fully clothed as opposed to her boyfriend.

"Sorry. I didn't see you there Nina…" Mitchell apologized and turned back to his friend. "But it was irresponsible!"

"I'm sorry, I thought we were supposed to be in the house, not that we had to have her in a 24-hour watch!"

"I'm here you know? You don't have to refer to me as 'her' when I am present. I am ghost but I do not appreciate being ignored!" Annie yelled getting her friends' attention.

"Well, that was serious!" Mitchell turned to justify himself.

"And everything was fine." Annie reminded him crossing her arms over her chest.

"Everything? Really? You call that fine?" Mitchell was now closer to Annie.

"Stop right there Mitchell. 'That' was about you, not about me." She said poking his chest with her finger. "No ghosts, no doors. That was just you're your garden variety vampire problem." Annie countered.

"That? Vampires? Can we drop the comedy act for a minute and tell George, your housemate, what the hell happened?" George intervened.

"Sweetie, please do not refer to yourself in the third person. It's not attractive." Nina asked coldly.

"Nina!" he replied looking offended in the direction of his girlfriend before turning back to his friends.

"What is Annie talking about Mitchell?" He asked placing his hand on Mitchell's shoulder.

"I would have prefer to keep this from George, Annie." Mitchell said turning his face slightly and opening his eyes wider signalling something to Annie.

"Keep what for me?" George asked pulling him to look at him.

"Oh, you can't be serious." Said Annie. "This directly affects him. It affects us all. It even affects Nina."

"Mitchell?" George pressed.

"Alright…We ran into a vampire I knew from some decades ago. Herrick banished him because he was a loose cannon, that's all in a nutshell." Mitchell voice was attempting at lessening the importance of what had just taken place.

"Oh, that is nice to know. If Herrick, of all people, banished him for being a 'loose cannon' I can't imagine what it means in normal people terms. Did he have a some sort of problem with you?"

"Ah, yes… no… not much more than with anyone else under Herrick." Mitchell replied shrugging.

"Tell him Mitchell." Annie added and Mitchell stared at her visibly displeased before giving in and explaining to George and Nina.

"He heard about Herrick and he came back. I guess everyone else Herrick crossed also figured out that Bristol isn't under any sort of administration. Vampire administration, that is. Power is up for grabs."

"And what would anyone have to do to take said power?" George asked needing to hear out loud what he was already guessing.

"George…" Mitchell looked down.

"Mitchell I think I can take it."

"Well, in vampire terms it would mean to defeat whoever else is a contender… And…"

"And?" Nina prodded now.

"And take out whoever killed the last one in charge."

It was all out in the open now.

"So… They're coming for me."

"It doesn't have to be that way. You are not a vampire, and you're not asking for Herrick's territory." Mitchell added.

"But it would make a nice demonstration. Wouldn't it?" George was smiling that sad grin he had every time he remembered his curse. His hands were on his head and Nina hugged him burying her head in his chest.

"I guess it would."

"Oh, George." Nina sighed.

"I won't let them." Mitchell said in control.

"Could we not have five minutes of happiness around here? So just this month we've had retaliating ghosts and now vampires." George added.

"Just to make sure. There is not a werewolf mafia going to come and knock on the door, right?" Nina asked.

"We can only hope." Annie replied.

"What happened with the vampire?" George asked turning back.

"Vampires." Annie added nonchalantly.

"I beg your pardon?" George inquired.

"It was two of them." Annie explained.

"Two? Mitchell?"

"I only knew Arthur. The other one, the girl, she must be young. She came with him." His friend explained.

"And what happened?" Nina asked still close to George.

"I took care of Arthur."

"Is he…?"

"No. I threatened him. He won't be coming after you, or Nina, or Annie." Mitchell reassured his friends.

"You mean he won't be coming after your property." Annie added remembering her prior dislike of Mitchell's choice of words.

"Yes, Annie, he won't be coming after my property." Mitchell said exasperated. "I'm sorry it offended you, but those are terms vampires can understand. It doesn't make quite the same impression to ask 'Oh, by the way, would you terribly mind not killing my BFFs?'" His voice was now higher and he was throwing his arms in the air.

"Oh, you… stupid vampire." Was all that Annie could say. Meanwhile she pursed her lips and decided to get her point across without words.

A vase burst.

"Jesus Christ!" Mitchell yelled ducking to avoid the shards.

"Annie! And then you wonder why we can't have nice things around here. You have to learn to control yourself." George admonished her.

"Oh, do not get me started wolf boy. That wasn't me losing control. I fully intended for that to happen. Notice it was the one closest to Mitchell." She said lifting her hand in direction of the vampire.

"That reminds me. What was that back there?" Mitchell said remembering Annie's better poltergeist accuracy.

"What do you mean?" George inquired with his interest piqued.

"Annie took out that Holly girl with a rubbish bin." Mitchell explained.

"Annie?"

"Oh, that trashy girl came charging at me. And I was already mad. That friend of yours had quite the potty mouth. I may be a lady but I'm no pushover." She explained.

"So, Mitchell. What do you suggest we can do?" Nina asked.

"We're not going to do anything Nina." George said.

"Well, of course we have to do something. They want to get you." Nina replied.

"I'm going to take care of it. I promise you George will be fine Nina." Mitchell promised.

"And how do you plan to do that?" Annie asked lifting one eyebrow.

"I need to go to the undertakers." He said avoiding his friends' gaze anticipating already their dislike of the idea.

"Oh, hell no." Annie screamed.

"Do you think that is a good idea mate?" George seconded.

"That is the only way."

"Going directly into the lions' den? Excuse me, but that is mental." Annie added.

"There is much more at stake right now. You three are my priority, but without Herrick there are many more liabilities. Without any structure humans are at greater risk."

"Well, I don't think you should be going there. And I'm putting my foot down." Annie said crossing her arms again.

"Unfortunately love, it's not your decision to make." He said looking directly into her eyes.

"Oh, do not 'love' me John Mitchell. I do not appreciate your condescending tone. And just like that? You will not consider our opinion?"

"Do you agree with her?" Mitchell said looking towards George.

"I rather you didn't go, yes." He responded.

"Well, I'm old enough to make my own decisions." He said avoiding their stare again.

"And I'm not?" Annie asked baffled.

"What do you mean?" He asked truly confused.

"So before it was, 'who let Annie out of her cage? Don't you know she's 12 and useless?'"

"You're over dramatizing. This is not a prison and I'm not your jail keeper."

"But I do get told what I can and cannot do, isn't that right?"

"Annie… We didn't mean that. It was for your own good." George tried to appease her.

"And I appreciated you being with me while I was scared, but I'm not anymore, and you still tell me what to do."

"You were going out on your own anyways." George added.

"Oh, you guys are infuriating." She popped out while a discarded mug exploded.

"Really mature." George said calmly.

"I can still hear you! And yes, I meant for that as well." Annie yelled from upstairs.

Nina slapped George on the head.

"Nina!" His voice was now at its highest.

"And that goes for you too Mitchell." She said pointing at him.

"Really Nina, this is none of your business. You don't understand what's going on here."

"Oh, I understand fully well what you're doing to that girl. I have two eyes."

"What do you mean?" The vampire asked confused and not too innocently.

"You both treat her like she's some kind of bizarre Tim Burtonesque undead Snow White! And don't give me that look. She's in the kitchen early in the morning making you breakfast before you two go to work while she tidies the house. I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't see you off at the door with a kiss on the forehead and your lunch in a paper bag. What do you think she does all day? That she sings and the birds and squirrels help her wash your pants? And what do you do in return? You leave her warning her: 'Don't open the door to strangers dear, unless it is a creepy old lady giving away dodgy apples!' and then what? You march down your merry way."

"We do not do that… much." George said.

"It is time you both realize that she's not your daughter, she's not your mother, she's not your little sister and she's definitely not your wife. I should get going now." She said sighing at the end of her rant.

"Nina, I rather you stayed here. With everything Mitchell said… I don't want anything happening to you… That is if you agree of course." He added fearful.

"I'm not in the mood to fight with you George. I'll stay just because it's quite late and I'm knackered."

The three of them went up the stairs to the bedrooms. Mitchell walked past Annie's room and hesitated while reaching for the knob.

"Give her time Mitchell." George advised.

And so he went to his room to think.

* * *

Annie heard them going to bed. She could hear Nina and George's muffled voices, she couldn't make out their words but the tone alone let her know that those were the words of a couple in love, worried about their future and comforting each other with kisses and caresses.

She felt lonely and dead.

She had also sensed Mitchell's hand on the doorknob before George told him to give her time.

It had been both relieving and disappointing.

Their relationship had been changing a lot. And no longer she could fool herself into thinking they were just friends. She had been remembering: his taste, his voice when it got low, the texture of his stubble against her sensitive skin, his presence in her.

And then there were the other daydreams, the 'what if's and the promise of a non-existent future.

Because she had no future and neither did he.

The future had been the place where she lived during most of the conscious hours of her very short life. The future had been the refuge while her reality with Owen didn't match the script in her mind.

Living in the future meant that she didn't have time to live in the present nor in the harsh reality of Owen's true self.

And now she couldn't afford living in the future because it didn't exist anymore. Sure, it looked like she was going to be around for a while now. But eternity had that nagging habit of forcing you to live one day at a time.

Mitchell didn't think of the future, she was sure of it. He didn't live on his past either.

What was the point then to think of those ghosts then?

She realized that her obsession with the future in her mind, of how things ought to be was one of her worse traits.

She had that nagging habit of creating prisons in her mind where she caged those she loved.

The thought caught in her throat.

Owen's voice hissed in her ear.

She was poison.

She made people do horrible things. And it was because in her mind she had to put together a reality so perfect, so unreal that life, true life had to become hell. Oh, she had started falling back into her old habits. Looking at him and grinning, needing his touch all the time. Imagining that her opinion would be law to him.

It didn't even matter.

She knew that she couldn't do that. Not anymore.

Mitchell cared for her. Loved her even in some way.

She was sure of that.

But she was a burden, she was a responsibility.

A nice pet.

Someone to look after, to save.

Maybe even to find redemption.

They had such a great friendship and she had tarnished it.

They had too much at stake right now and she couldn't let that get in the way.

'That' being her non-beating heart.

* * *

"Morning." Annie said to George as she came into the kitchen. He was already having his breakfast and reading the paper.

"Morning Annie. Are you feeling okay? You are normally up and about a lot earlier than anybody else."

"I'm only up and about early because I don't go to sleep George." She said sadly.

"You know what I mean Annie. Were you in your room?" George asked worried at her unusual melancholy.

"Yes. I didn't feel my normal sunny self."

"Listen, I'm sorry Annie. Nina was kind enough to open our eyes last night. We get so out of line when it comes to you. You are a wonderful, strong, grown woman who is more than capable of taking care of herself. That been said, we love you to pieces. _I_ love you to pieces and we are petrified that you leave us. We'd be going mental without you."

"Because you wouldn't know where the ironing board is? You should really consider it George. You'd never run out of tea nor have to wash so many mugs." She said as she poured hot water from the kettle into a mug not worried of making the tea. She didn't even feel like going through that pantomime. She just wanted the warm on her hands this morning.

"I'm not joking silly." George said placing his hand on her arm reassuringly.

"I know." She said smiling sadly.

A little tear escaped her eye.

"Where is everybody else? Are they gone? I didn't hear anyone mocking our corniness." She said wiping away the stray tear quickly.

"Nina left early, with tonight and everything, she needed to check on her place before work."

"Time of the month?" She asked.

"Yes, tonight. We get to deal with our own supernatural burden. Mitchell left as well. I guess you know where to. Listen Annie, I have work today and at night… But I can make sure I come by before, to check on you… Only if you want of course."

"I'm okay George. I really appreciate it but you don't have to, you already have too much on your plate as it is." She left her mug on the table and placed the other hand on top of George's.

"Mitchell should be back before it gets dark." He added.

"I can take care of myself George. Like you said, I'm a big girl." She said letting go and going back to her cup and looking away from her friend. "Just to be safe I won't go out. And anyways, I'm getting the hang of the poltergeist thingy. I think I'll practice more. I sense we'll have more vampire confrontations in our future."

"Along with another trip to Ikea to buy more mugs and vases?" George asked nudging her to make her smile.

"The type of problems we always have warrant a few broken pieces, don't they? And besides, we make such a kicking ass fighting team." She said now smiling properly.

"The world gayest ninjas strike back?" He said mimicking her grin.

"Oh lord." She said laughing now.

"Thank god for Mitchell then." George added making the hollow in her chest return.

"I guess…" She said looking out the window.

* * *

For having spent close to two years of her non-life devoid of most human physical feelings it seemed to Annie that lately her mind had been quite busy filling in the gaps of stimuli and giving her ghost sensations. She wondered if it was like what they say about amputees feeling pain from their missing limbs. There were a number of feelings and symptoms of humanity she had been experiencing quite a lot recently: stomach butterflies, blinding headaches from worrying too much, that horrible feeling you get when air gets sucked out of your lungs, the dizziness you experience when you come to a terrible realization, the sleeplessness of unrequited love… Or maybe that last one wasn't necessarily something new. 'How can any ghost figure out if they're losing sleep because they spend their time figuring out what are all those conflicting emotions they have for a certain someone when you don't really need to sleep?' She wondered.

That's what she had done to make time pass: an inventory of all the new things she had started doing since her death, and of all the new feelings and experiences.

She decided that while death was clinical with the rigidity of all the things she couldn't do, humanity was complicated and complicating.

It had been one long day she spent alone thinking, it was already night time and the full moon was hanging proud in the sky. She silently said a prayer for George and Nina, who at the very same time were going through their horrible monthly death. The other side of her heart meanwhile had been worried sick about Mitchell who hadn't come nor called.

The door finally slammed shut downstairs around midnight. She chose to walk instead of using her powers because of her fear of the state he would be in. By the time she came out of her room he was at the top of the stairs.

His eyes were still black and he had a smudge of dried up blood on his jaw.

He looked at her, and despite the darkness of his eyes, she sensed his desperation as he extended a hand for her.


	7. Chapter 7

**You know the drill, everything here belongs to TW.**

**I will probably start taking longer to post since the plot is thickening. But once more thank you for those of you who had taken the time to comment. Your feedback is much appreciated.**

* * *

Despite his resolve to come to the undertakers and settle things once and for all, Mitchell had found himself procrastinating for most part of the day. He had walked and smoked, knowing that sooner rather than later he'd have to come to the vipers' nest.

He had been so adamant, rude even; to the ones he loved about getting back into his past.

It had been for them after all.

But it didn't mean he was happy to do so.

It was already dusk when he had finally gotten through the hated threshold.

The scene was decadent. The theme seemed to be desecration and anarchy. The vision bothered him beyond the morality of his new life: the carelessness and repudiation of any sort of order over chaos.

"Jesus Christ people… We have over a millennia of combined ages and you act like you're bloody teenagers in a punk rock self-destructive spree!" He yelled.

Some heads turned towards him and he could hear the whispers.

The undertakers' old building, which normally would be stark and empty, was now full to the brim with vampires, must of the faces were new to him, along with some of the low-lives that Herrick had banished. Some were fighting, slamming one another against walls and smashing furniture; others, covered in blood, were in the midst of sex with multiple partners; and though hidden by the many people in the rooms, he could hear and smell the victims being drained. Their pulses were so loud that he could feel his head being crushed by their heartbeats and the smell in his nostrils was so intoxicating his walk faltered.

The acrid smell of blood was burying away the logical part of him while something more primal was been unlocked. The thumping of veins and arteries, not only within the premises but also all through the city, reverberated like ritualistic drums announcing a bad omen. He would close his monster eyes to try to calm himself, but the blood was hissing its spelling charm into his ear.

He opened his eyes and in the periphery he noticed the hint of dark curls among the crowd of predators and preys, sparking lust and dread within him. He was walking now among the bodies, shoving and elbowing away, catching just glimpses of coffee and caramel, until finally she turned her head and it wasn't the one for which he feared the most.

His imagination exploded nevertheless.

He no longer was in the damp and dingy building, littered by the undead and the nearly dead, but in a jungle near the sea. He could feel the sort of warmth he hadn't felt since his human days. Now he was another kind of predator, though his prey looked more than happy to be stalked.

She looked like she had never looked before; her curls were looser than normal, and her hair longer and lighter by the love of the sun. Whenever she'd turn to see him her full smile would greet him, mischievous, playing hard to get, her cheeks flushed, her blood singing like a siren for him and only him.

She was wearing her white camisole and nothing more, and all her skin was covered in a sheen coat of sweat. He liked the roundness of her hips, her shapely calves, her high cheekbones, all her body yelled how alive it was, and she seemed to laugh, to giggle, and to beg to be caught.

The dream changed abruptly and now she was lying at the bottom of the stairs: her skin no longer the colour of milky coffee but grey, her afterlife grey. This time she didn't have the bloody halo around her curls (how much he had imagined her like that, broken by love). No, this time she was dry, her cheeks sunken, black pools under her eyes, her once beautiful, and oh so kissable, full lips languid and apart.

And he could taste her, in the back of his throat and dripping from his chin.

He felt the pain and the horror in his chest. He opened the eyes he didn't know were closed and it was the same debauchery at the undertakers, the same supple bodies undulating against him, inviting, the powerful smell of blood, of life and death.

He felt disgusted.

He heard his own growl and the thud of the vampire he had just slammed face first into the nearest wall.

The crowd now had his full attention, admonished by the force of his alpha status.

"Now, that is a Mitchell I can recognize. I really couldn't believe all the nonsense people have been saying about you." A deep voice uttered behind almost mocking him.

"Ivan?" Mitchell asked turning to meet his old friend.

"The one and only. Why don't we go someone more quiet where grown-ups can talk?" He asked holding a tumbler of scotch.

"Herrick would be quite disappointed to know his pride and joy was being used as an American frat house you know?" Ivan asked as he closed the door behind them.

"What are you doing here Ivan?" Mitchell asked ignoring the previous comment.

"Just some sightseeing, not really interested in taking old William's territory if that is what you are wondering. You know I'm a family man. You must remember my Daisy. She is all spunk that one. Lovely feisty little thing, sharp as a whip. Everybody deserves a Daisy really…"

"Yeah, yeah… she's lovely." Mitchell commented dismissively.

"We must all get together. She was very excited to come to Bristol, and I couldn't say no. Historical times for our kind really. And she's quite keen on meeting your werewolf." Ivan remarked lifting his eyebrows.

"That is out of the question, and he's not my werewolf, he's my friend." Mitchell made clear.

"You know this is all a big mistake Ivan. If this keeps on it'll be the end of our kind, not only here. You know this, don't you?"

"Well, for what I've heard you haven't been too preoccupied for maintaining our ways." He replied before sipping his drink.

"But I have never put our existence in jeopardy."

"One can argue that taking into account what your… friend… did."

"We had no choice. George had no choice! Herrick was out of control." Mitchell justified.

"What is it that they say? About the evil you know…"

"You have to help me get things back in control." He pleaded.

"You know how much I hate politics. It seems like you have your hands full. It's a matter of time before someone comes for the were… George… Sorry, I've heard you're quite attached."

"I won't let them hurt George! Or Annie!"

"Oh yes… There's quite the talk about the ghost… They will be coming after you as well, you are the 'heir apparent' after all."

"How can I be? I turned my back to all of this… I went on the wagon."

"And still you are the legendary John Mitchell, a threat to Herrick and the owner of the mutt who took him out. The way I see it, the only way Bristol can get back in control is to have you lead them." He said tilting his glass to him.

"That is mental Ivan and you know it. I don't want to come back, I won't be able to refrain if I do."

"Then maybe there is your answer." He said with a Cheshire cat smile.

"I need to go, this is not helping." Mitchell said exasperated as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Take my advice and let them know you are the law around here, or those you have found so good to live with will be the ones to pay." This time his tone had lost all its previous humour.

"Everyone should know by now I'm not someone to mess with."

"Unfortunately, there are a lot of young ones around, some that don't know the full extent of the John Mitchell story."

"Then I guess I need to make a statement." He said charging back to the main room.

"Listen up people!" He yelled. "For those of you who are not familiar with me, I am John Mitchell, _the_ John Mitchell."

"I've heard about you." A blond vampire barely clothed said as she snaked her arms around Mitchell's neck and rubbed her body against him. Her mouth was bloody and she kissed his jaw licking her way to his lips.

"I've heard you haven't had a drink in a while. Let me get you a warm one, and you can lick it off my body afterwards." She invited.

"Sorry sweetheart, you're not my type." He said pushing her away without even looking at her.

"What is your type then?" She asked annoyed.

"Not you." He said grinning.

"Arsehole." She said offended.

"You may have come here lured by the current lawless state of this territory, or maybe you think it would be easy to take out the werewolf that killed Herrick." He continued addressing the crowd. "But listen, and listen well, I will stake every single one of you before you touch him or if you even come near my home and what is mine."

To make a point he swiftly swung a chair into the wall and picked up a pointy piece of wood and started playing idly with it as he spoke.

"I heard you've been dry. What can you do against us?" Someone asked.

"Seth and Herrick made the mistake of underestimating me and my friends." He said menacingly. "Ah! And I suggest you be more careful with your feedings. Herrick is not around anymore and neither are the cover-up systems of our way of life. Clean up your act before you attract higher management attention. And fix up this dump!" He yelled as he walked out riled up both by the blood and the rage.

* * *

"Mitchell?" Annie asked hesitantly unable to move when she saw Mitchell at the top of the stairs.

"It's okay Annie, I'm just… a little overwhelmed." He said closing his eyes repeatedly trying to make them go back to their normal state. When he couldn't he just stared away from her.

She came closer and touched his bloody jaw.

"Whose blood is this Mitchell?" She asked coldly.

"It's not mine. And I didn't draw it. I didn't kill anyone Annie. Some vampire girl kissed me."

"Oh did she?" Her upper lip curled in a very transparent manner but Mitchell was too distracted by what he was still feeling to notice.

"She wasn't too happy about my rejection."

Annie wetted her thumb in her mouth and rubbed her thumb over the stain and then wiped it with the edge of her sleeve.

"How are you?" She finally asked caressing his face.

"Not well. I can still hear it Annie, the blood in their veins. It was difficult." His hands were on her face and she could see how shaky they were.

"I can't make my eyes go back, I can feel the rage and the thirst on the back of my throat. It's so powerful I can't stand the feel of my skin. Annie…"

"I'm here." She said embracing him and letting his forehead fall to hers.

"I need you Annie." He said holding the back of her head over her curls and pulling her closer to him until his words were nothing but sighs on her own lips.

"Shh… I'm here." She says to his deep dark eyes.

This time it was not desperate and out of control as the first time when he had been in the throes of bloodlust. Annie was kissing him slowly and gently and the initial coolness of her skin sobered him a bit.

Slowly she undressed him as she did herself.

The two times before they had been desperate and trying to consume each other as if they could make all the monsters outside disappear.

And as if they could make all the monsters inside disappear as well.

This time they took their time.

Gone were the words and gone was the self-consciousness of being nude in front of a new lover.

Mitchell felt the horrible drumming of blood give way to only lust and how his skilful hands had forgotten the well-known dance steps of the animal chasing its prey.

Annie was new territory, uncharted and mysterious.

She was the New World with its magic and its threat, with never-ending youth and savageness.

And he was the Old World, with its disenchantment and age and hopelessly thirsty for change.

This time they were both equals.

This time they gave and took just the same.

* * *

"I missed you." He said as he traced the edges of the dim light from outside over her skin.

They were facing each other; dark curls mingling on the once white pillowcase. His right leg nestled between hers, tickling slightly her soft skin with its dense hair.

"I've been here." She said raising her eyebrows and barely letting the corners of her mouth curl a bit.

"No. Like this." He said pulling her closer to him. "Here."

"Mitchell… We can't always be here like this." She said looking away to the ceiling.

"You don't have a bed. There isn't any other place really… Unless you're feeling adventurous." He said with a smirk.

"Don't joke." She said playfully gently slapping his cheek.

"I'm not. I need you, you know?" His voice was lower, almost sighing. "Today was brutal."

"What happened?"

"Total chaos…Evil… It's quite scary when you find yourself missing Herrick."

"I'm sorry."

"The smell of it… The idea of letting go … until I saw you." He confessed.

"Where?"

"There, for some reason I could picture you… alive… Suddenly the thumping of the blood was your pulse… You looked so alive, and your cheeks were flushed. And then…"

"Then?"

He closed his eyes tightly, visibly affected.

"I pictured you drained… Cold… You were at the bottom of the stairs, but it wasn't Owen, it was me who killed you. It nearly knocked me to my knees. I hated myself for even thinking about you like that."

"The upside is that you can't kill me. Maybe that is the point. I'm not a risk."

"You're more than that. You tie me to some humanity I thought I had already forgotten."

"How can I do that when I don't know what it is I'm doing?" She just smiled sadly. "The future used to be everything to me. I guess it's just a big cliché, but I really thought I'd get to live in that future, that some day I'd feel like I had arrived. And then it was gone. And now… The only future I have is forever and it's overwhelming… Tell me how you deal with that. Tell me that in a hundred years it will be less scary."

"Annie…" He said shaking his head. "It can't compare. I've had more than my fair share of lifetimes. I've been living on borrowed time for so long. You barely lived. This… existence… is not fair to you."

"Maybe there is a reason for second chances. You earned your second chance. And you and George gave me mine. I have to keep reminding me that I won't make the same mistakes twice. I need to take this, whatever this is, whatever we are one day at a time. I need to learn to live in the present."

"I'm one very big mistake… But I'm not going to lie and tell you I regret you're making it."

"Mitchell… You're not a mistake. You're a new chance. You're more human than you thought you know?"

"Is that so?"

"I know, because you make me feel alive. Big cliché and everything. Or maybe it's the first time someone had said that quite literally." She was genuinely smiling now.

"You got it all wrong kid, you were just too stubborn to accept you croaked. You are death challenged." He said teasingly as he softly tickled her on the side of her belly.

"Don't tickle me! I'm only a kid because you're ancient, you old man!"

"Well, I'm the very old man you just had sex with."

"Oh, don't say that it sounds as creepy as if I had gotten together with my Nan's old boyfriend or something."

"Sweetheart. I'm too old for your Nan." She was feigning offence.

"Do you ever not pout?"

"That's just my face."

"I know, sometimes I don't know if I want to scream at you or kiss you with those lips."

They kept alternating between teasing and getting serious.

"Tell me something human." She ordered him.

"Something human?"

"Yes. Tell me a human memory." She insisted.

"I don't remember too much." Mitchell excused himself.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Sarah."

The name came too easy to his lips, so much that it surprised him. It had been years since he had thought about her.

"Do you remember her?"

"She was pretty. I don't remember my father. I never met him. He died when I was still in my mother's belly. But I remember her; she had very long curly hair… I bet that is a big surprise."

"Mitchell." She said softly, knowing he wanted to deflect the sorrow the memory brought.

"It's okay. I never knew anything different." He finally said acknowledging. "We didn't have much but my Ma made sure I wanted for nothing. She loved me… Though… I know many times she searched for him in my face."

"What happened to her?"

"She died when I was 20. Some illness or sorrow… Doesn't really matter, this is her ring." He said lifting the silver chain around his neck. "I've worn it since she died. See after that… Enrolling was easy. I didn't have much more to tie me back."

"You didn't leave anyone behind?"

"Well, I did have a sweetheart… Her name started with an M… Mary perhaps… I can't be sure."

"Was she pretty?"

"I guess I thought she was at the time. It's too far in the past."

The thought made Annie shiver. She wondered if this was what eternity had stored for her. Would she struggle to remember meaningful things in a century? Would they wonder what was George's name long after he passed?

"You won't forget what's important to you. You don't have to worry. I can see your mind work."

"But you barely remember her, and you loved her."

"I did, but only as much as what I thought love was back then. I would have married her if I had come back alive after the war. But it doesn't mean that she was the one, or whatever that is supposed to mean."

"So you never went back to Ireland?"

"I did… Once… I wanted to see her again. She looked beautiful but sad and tired… Her belly was so round."

Annie lifted her head surprised.

"Was… it yours?" She asked.

"I wondered at the time. I stayed a few weeks, I made sure to feed form another town because I didn't want to kill anyone she loved." He explained.

"And?"

"I stayed until the babe came. He was as blond as the sun and… he looked exactly like my best friend from childhood." He said with a sad grin.

"How did you feel?" Annie asked settling next to him, this time resting her head between his chest and his chin.

"Relieved, I guess. And a little sad too. She married him, my friend. But only after the child came. I guess she wondered too."

She could feel his Adam's apple moving when he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's nice. I tend to think that I don't remember a thing. But it's human, isn't it? Being able to feel the pull of sorrow after so many years… So now you owe me something human." He countered.

"There's not much to say. And you know quite a bit already. God only knows I never shut up."

"Tell me something insignificant, trivial. Those are the things that define us more, the little silly details." Mitchell explained.

"My dad took me to a market once, when I was little, 3 or 4 really. I really don't know how much it's my memory of the event or my memory of what my parents used to tell me about it, but we went together and I remember the colours and the smells. He was picking out fruit and he told me to hold on to his trousers, he hooked my finger to his pocket and I remember looking at all those colours, and they were mesmerizing and I let go."

He was now holding her tighter and pulling her until she was half resting on him.

"He didn't notice. I walked around looking at everything. I didn't notice I was alone until later; it could have been a few minutes or more. I didn't have a concept of time. But I remember the fear I had when I couldn't see my dad anywhere. He was terrified I'm sure. When he found me his eyes were swollen and he was so scared. He hugged me and I can still remember the smell of his cologne, his tanned neck, and a bit of sweat… I still remember my Daddy's smell…" Her eyes were glazed over with tears by now and he was gently rocking her.

"So I guess we're both more human than we thought right?" He asked running his fingers through her hair.

"Speaking of humanity. You probably need to go to sleep now." Annie said more calm now.

"Are you going to try? Have you slept anymore since that nap you took a few days ago?" Mitchell inquired.

"I tried once, but I just got to the dozing off part and then… I felt like I was falling. I haven't let myself since then. I'm scared to try."

"Then I won't." He said quite resolved.

"But it's late."

"It's not too long until I have to go get George. You want to come with?" When he asked he tilted her head up with a finger.

"No… That's your time together. I'll make sure to have breakfast ready for you."

"You don't have to." He replied.

"I know. I want to. And that is my thing with George and you." She said smiling.

"Very well then. So… What are you going to do to keep me up in the meantime…" He immediately noticed his choice of words and corrected himself: "Awake! I mean awake! Oh, Christ. You're contagious!" He said laughing at himself.

Annie smiled delighted to not be the least cool person in a room for once, especially when the other person was none other than the very smooth John Mitchell.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

* * *

They had talked late into the night until it transformed into early morning and Mitchell had to drag himself out to bed to get George. Annie stayed behind, for there was a world that belonged only to her boys, and even if she ever felt left behind, she knew she'd be willing to make the sacrifice if it meant the two people she loved the most could keep their relationship intact.

After all, she had figured out that it wasn't the house, with its bricks and mortar that kept her lifebound; it wasn't the bad wallpaper and the mismatched furniture, not even a cracked tile.

It was George and Mitchell.

It was funny, she thought. Their existence was nothing but a holy triad. Their binary relationships were unique and unchangeable:

George and Mitchell had come before, a brotherhood both exotic and mysterious to her, with a bond so deep that she had envied them before.

Then it was George and Annie: rocky at the start, like squabbling siblings, thirsty for control, and for getting the favour of the older one. But then such a sweet and understanding bond.

And then, it was Annie and Mitchell: A relationship too easy and too complicated to understand. United in death. Bound by never-ending life.

There was always someone left aside, unable to decipher the relationship of the other two: Annie for being a woman, Mitchell for being old and a killer, and George, because of his bigger chance at life.

You couldn't take one of them out of the equation, for then the whole thing would crumble.

Annie was still pondering on this when Mitchell and George arrived.

"Hey Annie." George said as he came into the kitchen still dirty from his previous night as he sat down on the nearest chair.

"Hi George. How are you feeling?" Annie asked placing a mug of steaming tea in front of him and following it with a plate of a delicious smelling full breakfast: eggs, bacon and baked beans.

"A little rough around the edges but I'll live. You didn't have to cook all of this."

"I like cooking, even if I can't taste it. And thank god for me or you two boys would eat nothing but cereal and biscuits." She said pointing at both George and Mitchell who had sat across from his friend on the long bench.

"You smell flowery." George said turning back to look at Annie.

"I took a bath. I used your lavender salts, sorry I didn't ask you before, but I have no money to buy my own."

"It's okay. But, you took a bath? Can you? I mean, I thought the ghost thing, you know, that it had some cleaning built-in something." George inquired making a vague gesture with his hand.

"I'm not a self-cleaning over George. And, yes I don't think I need it, but I enjoy the sensations. I can feel the water." Annie replied while she busied herself serving another plate.

"And how is it?" Mitchell asked interested while he stole a piece of bacon from George's plate.

"Well, it's like an echo of the feeling" She said as she was setting the new plate in front of Mitchell and took the time to slap his hand. "Wait for your own! Anyways, on the bright side my fingers don't get pruney. But I like it. And it makes me feel more normal. I've been thinking that I should try other normal human things I've forgotten about since I died."

"Like going to the loo?" George asked smiling.

"No. I don't eat, so that is unnecessary. And anyways who would miss that?"

Both boys were grinning now.

"Well, you could try eating and drinking." Mitchell offered.

"No. I really don't want to wee myself again trying to have tea, but wasn't the whole idea of this experiment of playing house of us to try to be more human? I don't know, maybe I should try other things."

"You're not getting another job at a pub right?" Mitchell asked.

"I think my career as a barmaid is over. But I could do something else. Though it would have to be something where presence wasn't required."

"Telemarketing? You like talking to people after all." George proposed.

"That's a thought. I should add it to my list."

"You have a list?" Mitchell asked.

"Of course I have a list. I have all the time in the world, I have tons of lists."

"Well, in the meantime, why don't you come here?" George said patting the seat next to him. "I'll be happy to eat for you, if you want to put your hands on my face while I eat this wonderful feast you have prepared for us."

"No, thank you. With everything, I just don't feel like it. If I was alive I think my stomach would be a in a knot. But I like watching you boys eat." She said sitting down on the remaining seat.

"Annie, have I told you you'd make a wonderful Jewish mother?" George asked smiling.

"Oh, I love you too Georgie!" Annie said jumping up and wrapping her arms around George's neck from behind.

"Don't call me Georgie, and get off of me! I smell! Of dirt, and blood, and dead things and other stuff I rather not think about." He said trying to pry off her hands.

"Oh, I don't mind. Maybe we should agree on trying to enjoy our five minutes of happiness as long as they last? What do you say? You just got your reprieve and Mitchell, you dealt with your vampire politics things right?" She asked looking up to Mitchell who wasn't too keen to talk on the subject.

"I don't think it's as simple as…"

"We'll deal with things as they come right?" She said extending her arm towards Mitchell who took it.

"And I'm learning to protect myself. I'm getting better at aiming and channelling my emotions."

"We'll always be here to help you, you know?" George said with a mouthful and placing one hand lovingly on the hand Annie still had around his neck.

"I know. So what do you say?" Annie asked letting go of George.

"I say… pizza and The Real Hustle? Pizza is on me." George offered.

"Are you sure I didn't go to heaven?" Annie overdramatized.

"Sarcasm doesn't really suit you."

"Oh shut up." She replied.

"So, have you really sorted out the vampire stuff?" George asked Mitchell.

"I think I got the message across, hopefully we won't have problems now."

"Hopefully? That's encouraging." George added.

"Oh, guys, would it be too superficial and naïve of me to want our problems to be just about who hasn't done the washing or who left the toilet seat up?" Annie asked leaning against the kitchen counter.

"I thought you said you're not planning on going to the loo. So I really don't understand why it's such a problem with you if the seat is up." George complained.

"George! Focus, please!" Annie admonished.

"We hear what you're saying Annie, but, do we really have a choice?" Mitchell asked.

"I lived my whole life, all twenty-two years of it, and I know it sounds ridiculously short to you, but nevertheless, I lived that entire life afraid. It was as if I was just rehearsing some goddamned play. I won't do that now. I won't let this… this second life… be just as insignificant."

"Annie…sweetheart… you'll never be insignificant. Not even if you tried." Mitchell said grinning at her.

"Okay then. So… Pizza and a film." She said.

"The Real Hustle is on tonight."

"Oh, yeah… Fine, but I'm choosing the film next time one of you goes to the video store. And Colin Firth will be in it." She threatened.

"Whatever you say Annie." George said smiling.

* * *

They were able to stretch their five minutes of happiness into a whole week. Annie and George were enjoying it but with each passing day Mitchell grew more and more restless. You can't live a life as long as he had without knowing the peace and quiet were rewards not reserved for his kind.

'Soon trouble will find us again." He thought.

And it did.

"Is that the big bad John I see moping human waste?" Mitchell was looking at the floor when a voice too loud and cheery for his taste made him look up. His eyes went from the floor to her cowboy boots, to her bare legs to her skirt and then her denim jacket.

"Daisy." He finally said not too cheerful when he met her eyes.

"Did you miss me handsome?" She said leaning back against the stark wall of the long corridor Mitchell was moping.

"Only like someone can miss deranged oversexed psychopaths." He replied.

"Oh! So you _did_ miss me!" The ginger vampire added.

"Whatever Daise, I have to work." He said starting his work again and forcing her to move out of his way.

"Ivan was right. You are no fun anymore." She said curling her lip and frowning while she planted herself firm on the ground and refused to give him one more inch of space.

"And it seems you have the same attention span." Mitchell said resigned to the forced break and leaning now on his mop.

"I was wondering… if you'd let me… play with your little puppy… I always wanted to have one of those."

"He's off limits Daisy." Mitchell's slight smile was all gone by now.

"Don't you get tired of being so broody? Lighten up, we're only the superior species."

"George is not a pet."

"And you don't enjoy having Casper as a maid."

"Do not talk about Annie."

"Oooh… Have you been having fun with the ghost? You get all touchy when she's mentioned. Suddenly you're a lot more kinky than what I remembered."

"And you're just as ignorant and shallow. I thought Ivan was trying to educate you. You little Eliza Doolittle from hell."

"I really thought that with Herrick gone and you in charge Bristol would be the place to be, but so far it's been dreadful. And when something finally happens I'm out in a drink run. Ivan told me about your little performance. You were really bad not waiting for me." Daisy added ignoring everything Mitchell had said.

"It wasn't a performance Daisy. And I'm not in charge." Mitchell replied getting back to his task once more.

"So you really rather pick up after human's disgusting excretions? You are a bizarre man John Mitchell."

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand." He said without stopping.

"Jesus! You haven't gotten laid lately, have you? If you let me have a go with humanity's best friend, I could even help you out with that." She said playing with his curls.

"I doubt Ivan would be happy about it." He said batting her hand away.

"We can invite him if that tickles your fancy." She countered.

"Listen Daisy, things are different. George is off limits. And so is Annie. Actually stay away from my house altogether."

"So you're not having us over for supper? I could bring food, I'm in the mood for Chinese."

"You better not show up by my place. You're not welcomed." Mitchell said getting closer to Daisy.

"Daisy! There you are love! This place is a bloody maze!" Ivan yelled from the end of the corridor.

"Christ! Can't you people leave me alone? This is my place of work!"

"Well mate, it's not a bloody dream career." Ivan retorted.

"Why is it that all the success rock star stories end up with someone moping floors?" Daisy asked now perched over a trash bin.

"For being alive for over a century, don't you have any funds somewhere? Here's a story to tell about lack of later life financial planning." Ivan said sarcastically.

As Mitchell was doing the best to ignore Daisy and Ivan he saw that at the end of the corridor a number of gurneys were being pushed; all of them topped with black lustrous body bags.

"Wait! Are those…? Oh God tell me that wasn't you." Mitchell said looking back at his 'friends'.

"Nah, I was getting tired of the local cuisine, I wanted something more… wholesome… we went to the country, had a very nice old-fashioned meal. Retired couple I think. They even had their own vegetable garden! I guess that counts as organic." Daisy explained while Mitchell frowned with his eyes closed.

"It looked natural." Ivan offered to appease him.

"That is just brilliant…"

"Oh don't get your knickers in a bunch. We always clean after ourselves. Well, Ivan does it. I have never been too domestic. But you know my Ivan, always so proper." Daisy said cheekily.

"Something has to differentiate us from the beasts darling." Ivan explained.

"I thought I made myself clear the other night at B. Edwards." Mitchell said getting closer to Ivan to avoid suspicion.

"Well it seems our… family has gone to the dogs, no pun intended. There's no dignity or class anymore. Herrick may have been going crazy with world domination and that lot, but it seems you have yourself a town of young vampires feeding willy-nilly. At least old Billy had a plan."

"Ivan, you know we have to do something for appearances sake or the whole organization is going to crumble. You don't want the old ones coming over."

"Well, maybe your furry friend shouldn't have killed Herrick. Come on Daisy, let's get out of Mitchell's hair, he looks… distraught."

"Bye Mitchie, say hi to George from me." Daisy said walking backwards as they both left Mitchell with his thoughts.

* * *

Annie was cleaning out the fridge and making faces at containers with unidentifiable food in them. The radio was on and Annie would sing along randomly at Beatles songs.

'_The long and winding road, that leads to your door…'_

The song was interrupted by some interference. Annie was about to change the station when a strange voice started talking to her.

"Why don't you go through your door Anna? Any door really." The voice said.

The music started again leaving Annie a little stunned.

'_Sweet Anna Sawyer thought she was a goner, but she had another chance_

_all the dead around her said she had it coming_

_but she refused to cross…'_

Annie went to the radio and unplugged it, but the voices continued coming from the device.

"Anna, your door is waiting for you…" The voice kept taunting, and Annie was trying to ignore it by closing her eyes and placing her hands over her ears.

'_I want you… I want you so bad… I want you… You know I want you so bad…_

_She's driving me mad, she's driving me…'_

"Stop!" Annie finally yelled and the radio exploded making the lights flicker.

"Annie! What happened?" George yelled coming down the stairs.

Annie let go of her ears, and restarted her task, trying to look as normal as possible.

"Oh, that? It was nothing sorry… they were talking to me through the radio…" Annie said dismissively.

"Are you all right?" George asked concerned.

"I am… Though they might have ruined the Beatles for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ah… Forget it. Nothing serious. It was just death talking through Beatles songs. It's a ghost thing really." She explained looking at George.

"Have they been bothering you much?" He asked worried.

"The Beatles?" Annie asked confused.

"Yes the bloody Beatles! No! Death!"

"Here and there. No one has tried to drag me through a door or anything, but there are little things… Don't tell Mitchell though or he'll blow a gasket." She asked.

"He's been a little jumpy, hasn't he?"

"If I didn't know about the whole vampire thing I'd say he's getting quite paranoid."

"I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm not concerned. And I worry about you as well." George said getting closer to Annie and putting his hands on her shoulders.

"I know. I'm worried about you too. You're careful right? Have you had any vampires bother you?" Annie asked.

"No. There was this time though, I thought I saw someone following me, but when I turned she was gone… Some ginger girl… She looked American." George said letting go of Annie and making gestures with his hands as if he was a magician making something disappear.

"It doesn't necessarily has to be vampire, right?" Annie said.

"Of course not, I get girls stalking me all the time." George said sarcastically.

Annie started snickering and George feigned offence at first and gave in and started laughing with her.

"Guys?" Mitchell voice came from the entrance as he was returning from work.

"We're in the kitchen." Annie yelled.

"Are you okay?" Mitchell asked not sure what he had walked into.

"Well, George has a stalker…" Annie said still laughing slightly.

"And Annie's wanted by the Beatles." George said prompting Annie to double over with laughter.

Mitchell made his usual face of confusion.

"Oh, don't look at us like that. It's just that I get songs from the great beyond through the radio. Apparently the Beatles want me. John and George I guess… as in the Beatles, not the two of you, of course."

"I think he got the idea Annie." George added.

"You're being careful?" Mitchell asked worried.

"Yes, I'm being careful. And I don't think they can drag me through the radio. Though, I think I killed it."

"It's been difficult times okay. I don't want any more threats than what we already have."

"You look shaken mate, what happened?" George asked.

"There's been an increase of corpses getting to the hospital, cause of death unknown." He explained lifting his eyebrows at the last bit.

"Vampires?" George asked.

"Yes. It appears so."

"But, but you said…" Annie stopped midsentence.

"I know. I thought I made my point. But it's a bit more complex." Mitchell explained dismissively as he got a beer from the fridge.

"So, they are still after us. No more humanity experiment, right? Do we have to run away?" George asked worried.

"No, George. I really don't know."

"Nina is still coping with everything. She barely just let go of her anger towards me." George was now ranting to everybody and no one in particular.

"I think we have more problems besides Nina." Mitchell said upset.

"You don't understand. I can't do this to her. I can't ask her to leave her life behind."

"They won't go after her. They don't know of her." Mitchell tried to calm his friend.

"So you're saying I should just leave her, drop everything and abandon ship?" George said starting to get angry.

"You've done it before." Mitchell said too matter-of-factly.

"Mitchell!" Annie admonished.

"What? I only want you both to be safe!"

"And what do you suppose Annie should do?" George asked him.

"Maybe he doesn't want me to come along. I'm ghost after all. They can't kill me. And I can't go. I think this road trip is supposed to be just you two Thelma and Louise." Annie said visibly upset and getting back to her cleaning task.

"Don't start it Annie. I never said that. I don' want to leave you behind." Mitchell said forcing Annie to turn around.

"So you really think I'll be able to leave the house I'm attached to? For good?"

"You're more than a haunted house Annie. And let's just rewind. I don't think we need to flee. Not yet at least." Mitchell explained.

"Wait. So you said that there are more corpses. They're killing many more. People are being robbed of their lives? I have to go." Annie said walking towards the door.

"Where? What are you talking about Annie?" Mitchell asked following her.

"Someone needs to go there and help the victims. I need to go and help." She said turning around and explaining.

"I don't think that is a good idea." George added.

"Go where? Are you going to track vampires just so you're handy when they have fed?" Mitchell's voice had raised an octave now.

"Well, I would stop it if I could." Annie said.

"Are you mental? You were almost taken away by the dead before. And now you're just going to go chase it?" Mitchell was throwing his arms out in the air.

"Well, that's a risk I'm willing to take." She said opening her eyes wide.

"I cannot believe this!" Mitchell said turning his back to her.

"Guys, maybe we should calm down a bit." George tried to calm his flatmates.

"Shut up George!" They both yelled in unison.

"Okay, fine. Just lash out at me like I have no feelings." The werewolf added upset.

"What are you going to do when vampires see you? You have any idea what they can do?" Mitchell asked her.

"What are they going to do to me? I can't be drained and I can't be recruited."

"You think that's the worst that can happen? You really are naïve." He replied cruelly.

"I'm far stronger than you think." She replied.

"And what about the dead?" George intervened.

"They need my help, they need more than I ever had." She then turned to Mitchell. "You can suffer all you want with the aftermath of your years of killing, but what about the victims? What about of those like me?"

"And this is news, now? Oh sweetheart, who do you think you've been living with?"

"We make a nice pair then? Maybe we should go together, you can help with the killing and I can help with the dying!" Annie was yelling now.

"Fine, so go along. 'Annie the hostess of the great beyond', 'the tourist guide of the great big journey' then. Are you going to offer them a cup of tea as well?"

"That's below the belt Mitchell. But I know you. I know you'll say the most hurtful thing to get me to agree with you. Even if it means I'll hate you for it." She said to him now mere inches away from his face.

"I just don't know what has gotten you so worked up right now." He said.

"Mitchell. You cannot really say that." George contributed.

"And you too George. What did you both think happened when Herrick was around? You think they fed from blood banks? Rats? It's been very nice and cosy to find yourselves sheltered and be okay with vampires as long as they feed from those you don't know. Wake up and smell the bloody corpses!"

"So that's it then. You only care about keeping the vampire status quo?" George asked now bothered by the implications.

"And your lives George. I can't fight for both redemption and saving the world. And Annie, What are you going to do when after all your help pointing them towards their doors they just want to get you to tag along? Tell me then, what? You're willing to be taken just like that from me… from us."

"No one owns me, you said so yourself. I'm going to my room. And do not come knocking." She said popping out of the picture.

"Can you believe her?" Mitchell asked.

"I understand where you're coming from, man. But I can't tell you that I don't understand her as well."

"It's just… this whole thing is doing my head in."

"But does she really deserve you taking it out on her?"

"I just don't want anything to happen to her."

"Have you entertained the idea that you overreact and you overprotect her because you've grown too attached to her?" George asked but Mitchell didn't know how to answer.

"Someone was following you?" He finally asked remembering the beginning of the conversation.

"Some redhead girl."

"Damn it Daisy." He said inwardly.

"Wait. You know her?"

"Well, you seem to have a vampire groupie. She's been asking to meet you. She has some weird fetishes."

"I'm a fetish now?"

"Not in the mood George. I'll make sure she leaves you be. And now I'm going to watch The Real Hustle. Feel free to sit beside me in awkward silence."

"I think I'm going to go see Nina. You go apologise to Annie."

"You heard what she said."

"Mate, when a woman makes an exit like that she expects someone to come after and apologise."

"Oh, Dear Lord…"

* * *

Mitchell was going to Annie's room when he felt something coming from his own.

"Annie?" He asked coming in.

"I'm in here…"

"I know. I… sensed you… somehow… I'm in my room right?" He asked looking around in the dark.

"The room was mine before you came." She justified icily.

"I didn't mean you couldn't be here. I was just surprised to find you here."

"I don't have a bed and I just wanted to lay down and cover my head with a pillow. I used to do that. My chair is really uncomfortable when one wants to sulk, you know?… This room was supposed to be a nursery… Or my office. Or both… So I had dibs on it."

"You can be here whenever you like. No invitation needed." He said smiling and sitting down on the bed next to her.

"Good."

"Listen Annie… I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you mean well-"

"No, it's not. It's just…" Mitchell said interrupting her. "I don't know how to make things better."

"We don't need you to fix everything. There are things we need to do by ourselves. There is a lot I need to learn how to do. It's been amazing having you to guide us, but I need to learn how to get by, I can't expect you both to be holding my hand all the time."

"I know. It's just… the price would be too high, if something went wrong. I'm selfish. A very selfish man, really… I can't afford losing any of you. I can't afford losing _you_." He explained looking deeply into her eyes.

"I'm not going to go anywhere." Annie replied with a sad smile.

"But I can still worry, can't I?" He said holding her hand.

"I guess so." She was looking down.

"Listen. It's late. Why don't we go to sleep?" He asked pulling the sheets back.

"I'll leave then." Annie said as she started getting up.

"No. Stay. You can try to sleep again."

"I don't know."

"Come here. If you have a nightmare I'll wake you. And I promise no funny business."

"Mitchell."

"It's okay."

"We seem to fight a lot lately. We used to be on the same page a lot more before." Annie was getting comfortable laying on her side looking at Mitchell.

"It was just because we used to gang up on George a lot more."

"I think you may have a point."

"Annie… I don't feel like I own you." He was pushing her hair back behind her ear.

"I was just upset."

"No, let me tell you something darlin'"

"What is it?"

"You don't belong to anyone, not like Owen wanted you to. No one owns you. But you belong here. With George… and with me."

Annie couldn't say anything, and a silent tear rolled down her cheek.

"We can't ignore this anymore, can we?" He asked humbled.

"And what is it?"

"I don't know. But there is some connection, between you and me."

"Does it scare you?"

"No. But I'm scared of losing it. Of losing you."

Unbeknownst to them George was walking towards Nina's apartment at the very same time. It was just a few blocks more until he reached her place. He had been thinking about everything that had happened and didn't see the dark figure trailing him. By the time he noticed anything amiss a vampire had already knocked him down with a punch. He picked up his glasses and saw three dark figures in front of him.

That was the last coherent thought George would be able to remember.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. It's all Toby's.**

**I really liked this chapter, I hope you do as well. But let me know what you think of the new developments.**

**I have to recommend you go and read 'Chasing dreams' by Cat-hattin. I will not be including Carl in my story just because she has done an amazing work with him and I would probably just channel it.**

**I also love her original character Katie and the very refreshing twist of having a real addict sponsor the vampires.**

* * *

George fought. He punched and ducked. He shoved and hit. He took the pain and the taunts without cowering.

Without forming thoughts and analysing.

But they outnumbered him and the moon was far.

Annie had left herself be lulled to sleep. At first it had been like dying again, slowly melting into nothingness. She lost track and left herself drift for a while, and after all, after such a long time of being awake, resting from her obsessive mind was refreshing.

Soon the images of doors and men with sticks and rope had come, fuzzy and non-connected. It wasn't pleasant sleep, but not yet a nightmare.

Until the voice came.

Quiet at first, like the echo of the sea inside a shell.

Slowly the crescendo grew until it was clear. The voice repeated only her name.

The ground beneath her in her dream gave way and she felt herself fall into a bottomless pit.

That's when panic set, and panic raised her off her dream.

She came afloat to the living world with a deep intake of breath and a painful wail.

"Annie! Annie! It's okay love it was just a dream. You're alright." Mitchell said squeezing her shoulders and making her look at him.

He had prepared himself when she had fallen asleep. He knew the nightmares would come.

But she only said the one word that was squeezing her non-beating heart:

"George."

"No, it's me Mitchell." He clarified.

"No! No! It's George. I can hear George! Don't you realise it?" She said getting up and distancing from him to show him the gravity of the situation.

"Realise what?" He asked confused looking at the tears rolling down her face.

"If I hear him, it means… it means…"

She couldn't finish.

"Calm down Annie. It was just a dream, you're awake now." He said dismissing a thought he couldn't get himself to fully form in his brain.

"But I can still hear him. Oh God!... George!" She said hugging herself.

Mitchell looked at her despair, getting closer he gave her a hug.

"I'm going to be sick!" She said pushing him away and covering her mouth.

Annie felt a violent surge within her and she ran to the bathroom. Her body was convulsing as if she needed to get sick, to let go of all the bile that was consuming her and threatened to spread all around.

She reached the toilet and crouched by it, barely having enough time to hold on to the sides and lean her head over it. Mitchell found her there, dry heaving, her dark curls hiding her face. He kneeled behind her and pulled back her hair. Her body was going through the motions, nothing was coming out of her but she was helpless at the need to convulse. There was panic in her eyes at the inability to pull enough air in. She didn't need to breath, but the body was set in the memory of what this should feel like. He held the hair with one hand and wrapped the other around her midsection, by doing this her body was now leaning slightly against his strong frame.

"Annie, love, calm down. There's nothing in your belly. It's all in your head, you have to calm down."

He said in a mellow tone trying to infuse her body with his calm.

Annie's retching finally got under control and she let herself fall to the ground.

Mitchell's mobile was ringing back in the room. They didn't know the time, but the sound was ominous. Nothing good could come from phones ringing late at night. They both seemed to agree without words. Annie gave Mitchell a knowing look and nodded slowly.

He let go and got up to walk back to the room. He wanted to hear that everything was fine; though he dreaded the call he was about to take. He picked up the phone from the side table and noticed Nina's number on it.

It was bad.

"Mitchell? Mitchell?" She yelled.

He couldn't say anything.

"Answer me you bastard!"

"I'm… I'm here Nina."

He didn't have to look to notice Annie had reappeared in his room, he could feel her presence and after he'd uttered Nina's name she had held his hand tightly leaning her body against his.

"It's George. He's in intensive care. He was attacked Mitchell! The sodding likes of you nearly killed him!"

"Nina! Nina! What happened?" He asked feeling Annie sob next to him while burying her face on his shoulder.

Cold tears grazed his skin.

"He was found in an alleyway, they nearly killed him. The only thing he said was 'tell Mitchell'. It was vampires, wasn't it? You told me you'd keep him safe you lying bastard!"

Nina's anger and despair was so thick he could taste it.

"Nina, listen to me, calm down, we're coming over."

"No, don't come here. It's your fault. You had to poison him like you poison everybody." She replied bitterly.

"Annie and I are coming over. And I'm going to kill whoever did this… And that is not a promise to you." He said hanging up.

"How is he?" Annie asked.

"He's alive, but he's in intensive care."

"He's unconscious." She explained.

"How do you know?"

"Because I can still hear him calling my name." She said before breaking down.

Annie could have closed her eyes and appear right next to George in the hospital. But nor her nor Mitchell could let go of each other's hands. The third part of their little family had been attacked and they needed to lean on each other desperately.

She felt herself get lighter, she thought that if anything happened to George she would start drifting from this world like a forgotten kite. The thought frightened her and squeezed Mitchell's hand tighter trying to anchor herself to him.

Mitchell drove the car with his hand enveloping Annie's, resting on her thigh. She was sitting almost in the middle of the front seat. He could sense her fear of letting go. His own heart was breaking in two, scared for both George and Annie. He didn't want to think about it, but if he lost George he didn't think he'd be enough to keep Annie on this side of her door.

Once they reached the room where George rested, Annie moaned in pain. They wouldn't had recognized him if Nina hadn't been sitting next to him holding his hand. His face was a bloody pulp and he was connected to a number of machines and IV drips. Nina turned to see them at the door, her face streaked with many tears: new and old.

At first there was recognition between Annie and Nina, you could see a wave of relief, to find each other: sisters in arms in the horrible sorrow they both felt. Then she noticed Mitchell and her defence mechanism went to the only other safe place she could be at: rage.

She charged towards him.

"What are you doing here? I don't want you here. You are the reason this happened!" She said banging her hands on his chest.

"No, Nina, you can't really say that." Annie said trying to pull her back.

"I did what I could to protect him…" Mitchell said with sadness, not even trying to stop Nina. "It… It wasn't enough… But I really tried."

Nina let herself break down and leaned into Mitchell crying.

"They hurt him so much… He's the sweetest thing in this god forsaken world and they did this to him."

"Oh Nina!" Annie said holding her friend and letting her own tears fall.

Mitchell walked towards George and held his hand.

"Oh George. I'm so sorry… This is all my fault."

Nina let go of Annie and looked towards her boyfriend.

"The doctors… They said… He got a brutal beating… They were surprised he's still alive… They say it's very touch and go… They sedated him because they say the pain is excruciating… Oh sweet Lord!"

Annie held her once more.

"He's going to be okay Nina. He will, you know George."

"I really hope you're right… But… I don't want you here Mitchell."

"He's my best friend Nina." Mitchell said now crying as well begging without words to be allowed to stay.

"You can't keep him apart Nina. It wasn't his fault." Annie intervened.

"No, Annie. It really was my fault. He's here because he saved me from Herrick. And I couldn't stop this from happening." Mitchell added letting himself sink in his familiar self-hatred.

"But he's going to get better, right? He has to get better." Annie repeated like a mantra.

"I know you didn't do it Mitchell. But I can't look at you knowing that your kind did this to him. I can't bear what you are right now." She said letting all her pain show.

"I'm going to go Nina. I'm going to find the bastards that did this and they will pay." Mitchell said.

"And when does it end Mitchell? When does this senseless violence end? You'll kill them and then who's going to come and take vengeance. Who's next? Me? Annie?" She asked.

"I wish I could make it all go away but I can't. I'll be back later." He gave Nina a brief hug that she accepted reluctantly and then walked towards Annie.

He held her tight and let her sob quietly against him. He then kissed her softly on her forehead.

"Will you be alright?" He asked her.

"Yes. Be safe… please." She said caressing his cheek.

As he left Nina took her spot next to George once more, holding his hand with both of hers and brining it to her lips.

Annie's heart was breaking once more, feeling like an intruder with the two lovers.

She walked closer to the bed, placing her hand on George's leg over the sheet.

"It's not all Mitchell's fault."

She finally said.

"Why can't you see him for what he really is?" Nina said without turning to look at her.

"Why can't you?" Annie asked without missing a step.

"Annie… You can't…You're too attached." Nina said looking at her.

"I am. But I wouldn't exist without them both. And you don't know what Mitchell did for George and me. George was just surviving before; he wouldn't be alive today. Mitchell told me everything about being a ghost… George didn't even like me that much back then… He took care of us, when no one else could. He's family… We're all family. And now George has you and you're part of us as well." She explained.

"He got me alright." Nina said in a thinly veiled code.

"Yes. And it is unfortunate." Annie replied knowingly. "But the both of you have a chance. You can have a life, a real life. Mitchell and I don't have anything remotely close."

"So you and Mitchell?" Nina asked bluntly.

"Mitchell and me is just Mitchell and me…" Annie replied looking down. "That is it. We're both dead, we're just a frozen photograph. George will never understand that, and neither will you. And believe me Nina; I'm very happy you won't. I need you and George to live. I want you to get married and have kids and grow old together."

Nina just gave her that humble nod she was capable of, when her tough exterior shattered and despite all her wit and sarcasm she couldn't say anything beyond her tears.

* * *

Mitchell went into B. Edwards in a manic rage. He needed answers soon.

"Daisy! You have about two minutes to tell me what happened to George before I make Ivan a widower." He said finding the redhead vampire idly filing her nails sitting over the desk that once had been Herrick's.

"Relax Johnny, I haven't done anything to him…yet." She said nonchalantly.

"You're kidding right? Because I swear I'll rip that pretty head of yours in two seconds if you don't act seriously."

"What? Okay, I'll admit that I did follow him a couple of times. But I didn't talk to him. You see I was hoping he'd notice me first. You didn't say anything about him wanting to come out and play with me on his own accord." She explained.

"He's in a hospital half-dead Daisy."

"What? Oh, what a waste! But you can't really believe I'd do that right? I mean, I could have left him unconscious but it wouldn't have been from pain." She said winking.

"Where's Ivan? I need you both to help me find out who did this." Mitchell said pacing.

"Oh Mitchell! Your puppy is going to fine, don't all werewolves heal faster?" She asked intrigued.

"He's in a very bad shape Daisy." Mitchell replied shaking his head.

* * *

Annie had finally convinced Nina to take a break. Before George's attack she had a double shift. After it she went home and waited for her boyfriend. But he hadn't come. She hated herself because as she was cursing him for being a couple of hours late he was lying on a pool of his own blood just mere blocks away from her flat.

When he was finally found he had called her name and a good Samaritan had found her number in his mobile.

She had arrived at the hospital almost at the same time as him. All her training as a nurse had gone out of the window. She was every bit the stereotyped family member that usually annoyed her during her work day: frantic, hysterical, getting in the way of the people trying to save the love of her life.

Before they had successfully pulled her away from him he had looked into her eyes. Under the bruises, and the gashes, his blue eyes had seemed so relieved to see her.

'Nina… Nina…' He had called for her. And then just 'Tell… Mitchell…'

That was all he could say besides his screams of pain. Nina had heard him cry out during transformations before, but now it seemed so much worse. She had been relieved when they had sedated him, it had scared her to have him lose consciousness, but her heart needed him to rest from the unbearable pain.

Since then she had been next to him, afraid to leave him if even just for a few minutes to go to the loo. Annie could see how tired she was and she offered to relieve her for a few hours but Nina couldn't do it. She accepted finally to let her take a break to go to the bathroom and have some much needed caffeine.

Annie took her spot next to George.

"George. It's me sweetie, Annie. I can hear you, don't worry… I can hear you so stop yelling for me now okay? I'm not deaf." She said in a pathetic attempt at a joke, smiling through her tears. "I'm right next to you, and it's me who is holding your hand. Nina just stepped out to get something to drink. She's really scared so you better heal soon."

She kissed his hand and kept talking.

"You're not allowed to leave us, you hear me? And anyways… The ghost bit is already taken… You have to get better… Nina needs you and we need you… Mitchell would be lost without you, and who would tone me down? You know I'll talk Mitchell into every single one of my crazy schemes… He's a sucker for googly eyes. But you already know that… And I can always kick him in the shin if he tells me no… So you absolutely have to get better and come back to the house before I start redecorating…"

"And who am I going to fight with about the hoovering and the washing? And who is going to hug me and make me feel better when I'm feeling sorry for myself? Who's going to teach me things?

"You know what? All the times we've squabbled about trivial stuff… You have made me forget that I'm dead.

"You are my family George.

"You're not allowed to leave us, you hear me. You are my family and I love you."

Annie kissed George's cheek and whispered something in his ear.

Later she wouldn't recall exactly what she had said. But she knew it had come from her heart.

* * *

"Ivan!" Mitchell yelled looking from his friend at the undertakers.

"Mitchell?" Ivan answered coming out of a room with a drink in his hand.

"Did you hear what happened to George?"

"I heard some people talk about it."

"Do you know who was behind the attack?" He asked desperately.

"They mentioned Arthur and that tart he turned. Apparently he came here last night afterwards. He was bragging about it… The idiot thought it made him the new king, but as soon as he claimed that Alexander punched him. He felt it was embarrassing to have a much younger vampire imply he was his new king… And such pathetic excuse of a vampire nonetheless."

"Do you know where he is?" Mitchell asked.

"You won't find them here. They fled soon after. Alexander threatened to bring him to you."

"Are you sure it was just the two of them? You know Arthur, he's all bark and he always prefers to cower behind others in fights. And the girl wasn't that impressive... I know George would have taken Arthur, even as he was with the full moon being two weeks away. He must have been outnumbered." Mitchell added.

"I believe you may be right. But that's all I've heard. Unfortunately I wasn't here when all this transpired. The missus wanted to go out last night."

"I need to find who did this to George. And they will pay." Mitchell stated.

"The way I see it you need to do more than just scare off people." Ivan said drinking the last bit from his glass.

"Maybe I just need to come here from time to time, get affairs in order." Mitchell replied already regretting what he knew needed to be done.

* * *

Nina hadn't come back yet from the canteen and Annie remained with George. He was stable but still unconscious. His voice in Annie's mind had gotten calmer, she now only heard him from time to time, calm but confused. Annie could only hold his hand tighter and run her fingers though his short hair reassuring him she was there and telling him he was going to be okay.

Annie heard the alarm of a life support machine sound a few rooms away from her. She heard the rushing of doctors and nurses. She gave a silent prayer for the new dead soul and asked for forgiveness, because she was not going to leave George alone.

The doctors and nurses were yelling codes, Annie wanted for the noise to be over soon. But instead of the sounds quieting down another alarm started going in the opposite direction.

'When it rains, it pours.' Annie thought

The yelling increased. And soon people were running in every direction.

"Help!" A voice yelled in her brain. "Where's the light? I can't see a bright light. They always show a bright light on films…"

Disconnected voices were invading her mind.

A third alarm started going in yet another room, followed by a fourth, and then a fifth.

Annie knew that something was wrong. It was statistically impossible.

"Is that the way I look?" A voice asked.

"Peter was the love of my life." Said another.

"Mummy? I want my mummy." The frightened voice of a teenage girl called.

'Stop, please stop.' Annie thought.

"There you are" This time the voice had not come from her mind, but from the door. It was a man in his fifties, gaunt and bald. Before Annie could react he had grabbed her wrist and started pulling her out of the room. Annie held on to the doorframe, but despite his weakened look, the man was too strong. Soon Annie found herself in the corridor and five different ghosts were coming for her. She could see their doors around and she felt cold. She looked back to George on his bed and felt rage.

She couldn't leave like this.

Not dragged in plain sight where doctors and nurses were frantically rushing by, unaware of her peril. She felt exposed. Even though they couldn't see, she realised that it was probably how victims felt when attacked in public when others were too afraid to help: enraged and ashamed.

A provoking thought came to the surface:

She was tired of being a victim.

She was tired of drifting and letting the violent sea smash her against the shore.

"No!" She yelled, and the man dragging her fell to the ground.

As the scene happened, the doors of the lift at the end of the corridor opened and revealed Mitchell behind. It took him a couple of seconds to take in the scene:

Annie in the middle, a middle-aged male ghost flat on his back in front of her and other deceased patients going for Annie, just as a number of nurses and doctors almost trampled with the ghosts unable to see them.

In panic he searched for Annie's eyes. They were of that electric blue he had only seen in a handful of occasions.

"Annie!" He yelled.

Only the living turned to see him with critical eyes.

A woman in a patient's gown jumped to Annie and tried to grab her. She had caught her off guard but it only took his friend a couple of seconds to push her off.

Something exploded inside of her, maybe it was that she had seen Mitchell's fear, a fear she had not seen in his eyes before, or the way his body was preparing to charge to try to save her.

She was done with people trying to rob her once more of the little life she had left.

"Go away!" She yelled and like an expansion bomb the ghosts around her were propelled back to their corresponding doors, which slammed closed after them.

Only then, Annie let herself fall to the ground.

Mitchell crouched next to her and cradled her in his arms.

The nurses that had been ignoring the whole scene suddenly became aware of the dark man on the floor.

"Is she okay? I didn't see her there before." A nurse said to Mitchell looking in the direction of what he thought would be his empty arms.

"Jasmine! Can you help me? She seems to have fainted." She yelled for yet another nurse.

Mitchell looked up puzzled by her words. He looked around and a porter he had seen before came with a wheelchair.

"Let's get her to the bed on room three, it looks like a young female in her early twenties. She seems to have collapsed. What's her name?" The new nurse asked him.

"An…Annie." Mitchell said.

"Is there any conditions we should know about?" She asked him.

'She's dead.' He thought, but only shook his head.

They had taken her to the same room where George was, and they laid her on the empty bed on the far left.

"We should take her vitals." A nurse said.

This made Mitchell react. He pushed his way until he was next to Annie and he held her hand and rubbed her cheek with the other.

"Annie, love, wake up." He begged her.

"I'm sorry sir, but you need to give us space to help your friend."

"She… hasn't been sleeping well, that is our best friend and housemate over there," he said pointing towards George. "She's been under a lot stress, I'm sure that is all. Just let her rest."

"Mit…Mitchell?" Annie said coming back.

"See?" He said to the nurse and turning back to Annie. "Darlin' it's me, how are you feeling?"

"A little woozy. Why am I on a bed, and why are these women looking at me?" She asked unaware of her new condition.

"We're trying to help you, you collapsed dear." The first nurse explained.

"You can see me?" She asked surprised.

"I beg your pardon?" The nurse asked.

"Ah, she means… That she's not a patient. She's only a visitor." Mitchell explained, trying to sound normal. "You collapsed Annie, and they are only trying to make sure you're fine. But it's only the stress of George right? And the lack of sleep." He said nodding and trying to get her to catch his drift.

"Riiiight… I haven't slept in ages. I… should probably just go home and rest." She said looking at both nurses.

"Annie?" Nina's voice came from the door." Confused at what had happened in her absence.

"Nina! Thank god!" Mitchell said. "Annie here collapsed, and these nice nurses are helping her. Because they can SEE that she's not well."

"Okay. Laura, she's my friend." Nina explained to the nurse, she knew them all by name. "I've been trying to get her to eat more and sleep properly but George is almost a brother to her. They… grew up together; their families were very close. I can keep an eye for her. I can see you have your hands full, with all the codes."

"She shouldn't take things lightly." Nurse Laura told Annie. "Nina keep an eye on her."

"I will. You go tend to the other patients; we'll walk down to her to the ambulatory clinic and get her vitals taken. Thank you for caring for my friend as well as my boyfriend." She thanked them walking them out of the room.

"Alright Nina. Call us if you need help."

"Will do. Thank you Laura… Jasmine."

Once the nurses had left the three supernaturals finally spoke.

"They can see me. I can't believe they can see me."

"Care to explain what happened Mitchell?" Nina's contempt with Mitchell was still evident.

"They tried to take her again." He said not letting go of Annie's hand.

"Are you alright Annie?" Nina asked honestly concerned.

"I am… A little lightheaded, but I'm all right. You shouldn't be worrying about me. With George…"

"Well, thank God Mitchell was around to help you." Nina said to her placing a hand on her shoulder.  
"I wasn't. I only came by as they were ganging up on her. It was all Annie." He explained.

"I got so enraged. It felt unfair, that they took advantage of me being here for George." Annie explained.

"You closed the doors Annie. I'm so proud of you." Mitchell said smiling.

"Oh God, with all the commotion I forgot about George." Annie said worried and trying to get up, but Nina and Mitchell stopped her.

"He seems okay. Vitals are still stable." Nina said looking at the machines around.

"I think I should take Annie home." Mitchell stated.

"But George…" Annie complained.

"I'm here now Annie. He's not alone. I won't go away from him." Nina said.

"I don't think it is a good idea for you to stay here while there are so many opportunities for doors to appear." Mitchell said to her.

"Okay. I think I'll go home for now. But I will come back. You can't keep me away from him." Annie said to Mitchell.

"Okay, but you should be with someone else all the time you're in the hospital… Too many chances… I'll take you home."

They walked out the hospital together holding hands. Annie could see people looking at her. A girl was checking Mitchell out as he walked by her unaware. Annie could see the girl look at her and frown disapprovingly.

She thought that the girl must have assumed they were a couple. Even as she was expressing her dislike for whom she thought was the tall handsome man's girlfriend, she had managed to make Annie smile.

Because in her eyes, she was just a simple girl, alive, walking hand in hand with the man she loved.

In that girl's mind Annie's life was happy and complete.


	10. Chapter 10

**I just realised that I have been describing Daisy as ginger. Forgive me, the last time I saw Amy Manson was in Desperate Romantics and her hair was too difficult to forget. So let's imagine that she had the same beautiful red curls from DR.**

**All these characters are Toby Withouse's beautiful creations. I'm just butchering them.**

* * *

The high of the one-second-fantasy life wore out slowly on the way home. They had remained silent and it had been comforting for Annie. She knew that once they had to speak she'd have to come back to reality.

Every step from the car to the house was too conscious, too planned and awkward.

They had come inside and he had closed the door. No one had moved from the entrance.

"So… Home sweet home?" He finally said turning to look at her.

"Do you… want a cup of tea?" She asked moving indecisively towards the kitchen, eager to have something to do, and something to rest her sight on besides him.

"No, Annie…" He sighed. "You don't need to make tea, you just went through something very disturbing." His hand held on to hers pulling her back.

"I want to. I really don't know what I'd do with my hands if I don't. Please? Just humour me."

"Fine." He reluctantly said walking behind her towards the kitchen.

He stood against the fridge while she put the kettle on and repeated the well-rehearsed ritual of the tea.

"I won't let anyone take you." Her attention was caught and she turned to face him. She didn't notice she had started to shake her head slowly.

"It's not your responsibility. And it won't be your fault if they take me…" She took a second to weigh her words and added: "when they take me…"

"No!" The assertiveness of his emotion took her by surprise.

"It will happen… eventually. I have to accept that." She said trying to convince him as well as her.

"But what if I can't?"

"Oh Mitchell…" It was all she could say looking down.

"I'll get you back."

"Mitchell… It's a moot point… No one comes back from the door. I'm not saying I'm resigned at going. Hell, they'll have to take me kicking and screaming, and I hope it's a long time before that… But I will have to through the door… at some point."

"I will get you back."

"Thank you." She replied and turning back to her task in an attempt to blink away her tears without his knowledge.

After a few silent minutes she let herself speak about her most present fear.

"He is going to get better, right?" She asked putting her hands down on the counter. He immediately came to her and placed a hand in the small of her back rubbing it gently.

"His body can stand more than a human's and it heals better… the beating was bad, but… it's already a good sign that he's put up a fight. The only thing we can do now is wait."

"It's not your fault." She said turning to face him.

"What are you talking about?" He asked with a sorrowful smile.

"I can see your thoughts as clear as the day… You're punishing yourself for this." She replied.

"I could have done something… Made sure he was safe." He said letting go and leaning against the counter averting her gaze.

"It just wasn't your fault. You can't feel responsible for every little thing that happens to us… I know we did this to you… We put such a burden on you to guide us in this scary supernatural world. But it is unfair." Her hand was now forcing him to look at her.

"I'm glad to help you. It's the first time in my long wasted life that I've had a real purpose." Her hands rested on his face as he spoke.

"Fine, so you're Mummy bird but you have to push us off the nest so we can learn to fly." She said gesturing with her hands.

"Annie… Never compare a man with a mother, human or animal… But thank you. I understand what you're trying to say." He said smiling back.

"You're welcome." She then turned to finish the hot drink.

"How are you doing? For real?" He inquired taking the cup from her hands.

"Still a like shaken to be honest, but I feel less helpless… I got to shut a few doors… Even if I have no idea exactly how… Maybe I'll learn to do it purposefully in the future."

"And you can be seen now." Mitchell reminded her.

"Well, that is really nice, but I'm not getting too attached. We all know how unreliable it is. I'm not running to get a job at a pub any time soon, but it will be fun to go do the shop, or go the park or a museum and actually be seen. I'll have to pay for it though…" As she said it she walked towards the table and sat down on the chair facing the door to the back garden.

"You could just enjoy it as long as it lasts." He said coming over and sitting down next to her.

They both remained silent; Mitchell was just looking into his cup, playing with the spoon. Annie was mesmerised by the tea as well.

She started thinking about fortune-tellers that read the future in coffee. She wondered if somewhere there, at the bottom of the cup, a secret of who she was and what she could be was being revealed to Mitchell.

But her future had ceased to exist.

She now had only a present, an eternal present.

Without giving it a second thought she let her hand reach for the cup, and her index finger dipped in it. He looked at her confused as she stirred the hot beverage with her it, as if the whirl could confuse her past and future. She finally pulled the finger out and brought it to her mouth and closing her eyes she tasted it.

A smile crept into her lips.

"Annie?" He asked intrigued.

"Hmmm?" She said behind closed eyes.

"Care to tell me what just happened?"

Opening her eyes she said:

"I tasted your tea." Annie said matter-of-factly.

"I know. Why?"

"Mitchell. I tasted the tea. I can really taste it." She said looking directly at him trying to convey the magnitude of what she had just experienced.

"Wait. Really?" He was letting himself smile proudly.

"Yes. And that my friend is a bloody good cup of tea… Aw, sorry about the whole finger in your cup thing though."

"It's great that you can taste it! It's more than great; it's fucking brilliant. I'm happy for you." His gloved hand was now resting on her wrist encouraging her.

"It's silly in reality, but very exciting." She said smiling. "A trivial little action for humanity but life-changing for a ghost."

"So… How did you know you could taste things? What made you try?" He asked interested.

Annie wondered about it.

"Ah… Nothing really…" She replied starting to feel embarrassed about it once she remembered when the idea had been conceived. "I just wanted to try." She was now getting up and turning away from him trying to hide her face.

"Annie…" He said knowingly.

"Yes?" She answered feigning ignorance.

"You know you can tell me everything right?" He said leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I do."

"So?" He asked again.

"So what?"

"Tell me already. You know you'll end up telling me anyways."

"Ah… It's nothing really… I was just thinking that I have been noticing tastes…"

"Have you been eating?" He asked confused.

"No."

"Then?"

"You're making me blush!" She finally yelled.

"I'm making you blush?" He said sceptically as he got up and got closer to her. "I really don't know how you can still feel embarrassed in front of me, or… about me… You're really hurting my feelings now." He said teasingly placing a hand over his heart.

"Fine, okay!" She said turning around and moving her hands in front of her. "It's nothing really. It's just that last time you kissed me I could taste you. See? No big deal." She couldn't look into his eyes long.

"You can taste me?" He was smiling like the predator he was. "What do I taste like?"

Annie sighed with resignation; she knew she couldn't deflect the conversation any more.

"Just a hint of coffee and tobacco… and… you… whatever that is…I just wanted to try… So nothing extraordinary… End of conversation." She said starting to walk out of the kitchen.

"Oh, no you are not getting away after this." He said holding on to her sleeve and pulling her to him. He kissed her with one of his hands holding the side of her face. His thumb was drawing circles over her jaw and the rest of his fingers nestled against her neck under her curls.

She had been startled at first and she even lost her balance for a second, but his other hand was wrapped around her lower back steadying her. Slowly she started letting herself let go of all the thoughts in her obsessive mind and live in the very instant in which they were. Her arms went to his neck and held on to it. He was leaning so much into her that she needed to hold on to him to stop her from falling backwards.

She soon realised she had to let him lead, he slowly turned them and walked forward until she felt the kitchen counter against her back. The intensity of their kiss was picking up. She used to fear losing gravity: levitating and disappearing into deep space, but she was sure that right about now, he wouldn't let her go.

The kisses would break from time to time and they would see each other through heavy lids, panting out of the pure mental need to pant, sigh and moan. And she would kiss his hair while he savoured her neck.

Although there was no more space for him to be, one of his legs got in between hers forcing her to retreat even more. There was no more way to go so he lifted her over his thigh and her backside was barely resting on the edge of the counter. Instinctively her leg wrapped around his hips and in that moment Annie realised how natural the movement had been and how it hadn't surprised her.

He touched her as if he'd had been doing it for years. Soon they were moving, blindly out of the kitchen, the first obstacle had been the fridge; she had felt the corner of it against her back.

"Sorry."

"No problem."

Once out of the kitchen, and a number of bumps after she figured out this wasn't working well. And despite her being dead the sensations on her back were not pleasant.

The destination had to be changed.

"Sofa… Sofa…" She said quietly against his lips.

And he was happy to oblige.

* * *

"That was… something."

He was lying on his back on the sofa with her resting on top of him, her right ear resting on his chest. She grinned like a little girl as his words sounded deep and muffled through his ribcage.

"George would have a fit if he knew what we just did on the sofa." He continued.

The thought brought an even bigger smile to her lips.

"He'd yell at us about how unhygienic this is, and about how we don't understand boundaries for shared living." She said happy at the thought of a very healthy George.

"Maybe we should christen every room in this house… And then maybe we'll get him so ticked off he'll absolutely have to wake up and come home to shout at us."

The hope they both shared was tangible in his words and it brought back the sorrow.

"Oh… George…" Annie said shedding another tear. "We're terrible… terrible people."

"No. We're not… This… is just natural. We're hurting. We miss him and… despite everything, I guess this is something quite human; to look for affection and companionship when faced with loss…He'll be okay." He consoled her combing her hair with his fingers.

"Did you find out who did that to him?" She asked lifting her head to look into his eyes.

"It was that tosser Arthur and the girl you took care of. So far it's all I know. I think someone else was involved; George would have been able to take Arthur and the girl. I'm sure they ganged up on him."

"Did you do something to them?"

"No. Not yet at least… They weren't at the funeral parlour when I went. But I'm going to find them, and I'm going to figure out who else was involved."

She didn't condone violence but she couldn't say anything. They were responsible for the state George was in and they still were a great threat for all of them. Sensing her worry he spoke.

"Everything will work out. George is going to get better and he'll be back and I'll get the vampires sorted out."

"You promise?"

"I promise you the only thing that will bother George is going to be trying to figure out what is going on with us."

"You think he'll figure it out?"

"Well Annie, he's bound to put two and two together when he sees us kissing and you sharing my bed, because I'm not planning to stop. Are you?"

She only smiled at him.

"And George will scream about how we can't let him have the biggest news for five minutes."

"Let's go check on him. Nina will need someone to take over so she can rest." Annie said getting up.

* * *

"How is he doing?" Annie asked Nina as she came into the room where George had been moved.

"He's healing. Slower than we'd like, faster than doctors expected, but he's healing. Did you find out who did this to him?" Nina asked Mitchell as he came in the room.

"I have a couple of names. I have people helping locate everybody involved. I will be taking care of it. I will make sure this doesn't happen again, to him or to the two of you." He said looking at both women.

"And how are you going to manage that? Nina asked sceptically.

"I'm going to have to set some sort of order at the funeral parlour."

"Should we address you as your majesty now?" Nina asked acidly.

"No. I'm not taking over. But I have to do something. You've seen the mortuary here, besides what may happen to ourselves, things are getting out of hand." Nina nodded agreeing with him.

"Are you sure is the only way?" Annie asked worried.

"It's obvious that anything else I tried before failed. So, yeah… I don't know." He was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"That place is toxic to you. It changes you." Annie continued.

"Well, I'm open to suggestions. In the meantime I have to do what I have to do."

Nor Nina nor Annie had anything to propose, while they didn't like the things Mitchell had to do, they provided them safety.

"You should go home and sleep, you look exhausted." Annie offered Nina.

"I can't leave him." She said touching George's hair.

"What good are you to him if you collapse from exhaustion and lack of food?"

"Okay. But I won't go home. I'll take a nap in one of the break rooms and a shower. But Annie, something happens and you come to get me. Wake me up, dragged me out naked, I don't care, you come and get me."

"Don't worry Nina." She reassured her as the Nina left the room.

Mitchell had felt more comfortable once Nina had left to sit down next to George.

"Hey man. We're here, Annie and me. You need to get better before Nina stakes me... I'm really sorry."

"He won't blame you." Annie reassured him coming behind him and placing her hands over his shoulders.

"Can you still hear him?"

"He complains a little. He calls for Nina, for me and for you."

"Now we wait for him to get better."

"But how long? What if he's not well before the next... you know?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

* * *

When Annie had seen the pink house over two years prior, all she could see was potential. Owen, on the other hand, didn't hide his dislike of the level of house they could afford, but alas, for him it was just a starter house, the first step in building patrimony. He thought of the time living in the house as investment, prison time in the dingy dark house that after a few years would yield him equity and lead him to the next step in the success ladder.

But Annie had seen the house's good bones. She didn't see bad wallpaper and damage, she saw her future: a place she could care for and fix, a place where her 'real life' could start. She saw all the breakfasts Owen would share with her, the nights spent cuddling on the sofa in front of a good fire on the fireplace (once it was fixed), a cosy bedroom where they'd go to sleep each night, and even a possible nursery.

Windsor Terrace was Annie's house, not because her name had been in the deed, nor because the cracked tile at the bottom of the stairs had linked her to it. The pink house was hers because she fell in love with it, and because she could see the life in it, a life she had wished would become hers.

She had imagined the picturesque life she'd have there. She had woken up early those few days she had lived there before her death, and she had made breakfast for Owen before he went to work. 'Soon', she thought, 'after we're out of boxes and things are more settled, then our life will begin' but she had been dead with a cracked skull before that even happened.

Her idyllic life in the house she loved never started. Owen had been too worried about his new job. Living amid boxes and DIY projects stressed him, so he stayed out as much as he could.

The biggest waste of the house was not that all its potential didn't yield a picture-perfect advert for a decoration magazine, but that it had not housed a couple in love building a life together.

That was what she had hated the most about the previous tenants.

Though she had scared off a few couples, even one expecting.

But it would have been too cruel to remain as a spectator of what her life should have been like.

It had been three days after their conversation on the sofa when it hit her. She had started living that fabled life of before. George was still in the hospital, getting better closer each day to been weaned off from sedation, but Mitchell and her had been playing that story of a loving couple in the house. They hadn't planned on it; it had developed organically.

She'd wake up before him, or more accurately, she'd get out of bed before him, with the first light of the day, to go downstairs to make the first cups of tea and coffee. The difference was that unlike her life with Owen, who wouldn't miss her, despite being somewhat asleep, Mitchell would always hold on to her trying to keep her in bed. Whenever she was in the kitchen he'd find the moment to steal a kiss and wrap his arms around her. She'd go with him to the hospital to sit with George while he worked. He'd go to the funeral parlour and later they find themselves together again at the house.

She smiled at the irony of her dreamed life coming together in her death.

The only part missing was George, but every day she grew more and more confident that he'd be coming back soon. She wondered if that was what it felt like to live in the moment, in a real world outside of the stories in her head.

Mitchell had felt the trembling animal inside him settle during those three days. George was getting better and his sedation had been reduced. Soon he'd come home and their little utopian enclave would be complete once more. Nina would come as well, no doubt, and despite their reciprocal contentment he would welcome her for she was George's happiness and George and Annie's was his.

He had been burning the candle both ends, putting the time to work and cover George as well as taking the time to sort through things at B. Edwards. Ivan had turned out to be an excellent ally, given his age. With his support and the support of other older vampires from Herrick's era things were slowly falling into place. It was far from ideal, no one was renouncing blood and he wasn't proposing. The main interest had been to maintain their way of living, keeping the vampire world unseen and protected.

He wasn't their leader. No one had laid claim to the throne, and he wanted the job least of all.

"You may blame me for Herrick's demise. But those of you who were around can remember what was his agenda. He was pushing for massive recruitment with only a small percentage of humans remaining as livestock." He had said to those who were there to listen.

"I don't know how it was for you when you were recruited, it probably wasn't a choice. But most of us remember that we were turned in a time where recruitment meant something important. Forced or not we were chosen, special. Herrick was campaigning for a return to the Dark Ages; to make us vampires as common and primitive as humans. You may miss Herrick, but think about it: a world of vampires where food is scarce and we're nothing but savages."

"We propose this to you: A life where you're not the pawn to someone else's schemes. You can take it and stay or you can go elsewhere. I may not want Herrick's position, but you don't want us going after you. We've been around for long and it wasn't thanks to our good fortunes."

That had been his speech and it had worked so far.

Life at the pink house had been calm: an oasis where Annie was source and centre. The coolness of her skin at night made him feel like what he imagined drowning in the middle of the ocean would be like. Freighting but peaceful, if such oxymoron was possible. She could make him feel like he was thousands of miles away.

It wasn't a new occurrence that he'd notice her comings and goings every night. He had been accustomed to the nocturnal noises. They were subtle, but not quiet enough for the acute vampire ears. Despite of looking thoroughly dead while he slept his dream state was always light and even in the haze he'd notice her movements. He tried to keep her against him as much as he could.

They had not questioned their relationship anymore, it was accepted that there was a silent bond between them.

And in their undead reality normal human laws regarding male-female interaction meant absolutely nothing. There would be time to name things that now begged to remain nameless.

Nina, on the other hand, lacked the outlet they had for their worries. She remained by George's side just taking small breaks out of Annie's insistence, but once she'd make her way to a break room she'd lay there unable to close her eyes. George was slowly improving but she missed his voice dearly. One-sided love, even when you were sure of your lover's feelings, was a hard pill to swallow.

It had finally happened, four days after the attack that George's cool blue eyes had opened again.

"Nina…" he had said and she couldn't think of any other occasion in which her name had sounded more beautiful than right then coming out of his lips.


	11. Chapter 11

**You know the disclaimer.**

**I must have rewritten this at least three times, it just wasn't flowing like I wanted. It seems I'm not that prolific at writing happiness, it figures. Hopefully the result is good enough and enjoyable for you, please be kind and let me know your thoughts.**

**It was surprisingly really enjoyable to write more of George's and Nina's thoughts, I hope that you enjoy it as well.**

**And I promise there are more developments and conflicts coming. The next one is half written, it was part of this chapter but it was getting kilometric, so I split it in two. I'll try to update faster than I did this one.**

**It wouldn't be absolutely horrible if you encourage me with your comments.**

* * *

The last time George woke up at a hospital he had long red puckered scars running down his shoulder, a terrible memory of the dead body of his hiking mate and the realization that brilliant polyglot engaged George had died in Scotland.

This time, however, he came to the familiar face of his Nina who'd forever hold her own puckered scars on her wrist.

He couldn't understand those who found his Nina harsh, and he was man enough to admit they were many.

His sweet Nina was an acquired taste.

Rumour through the hospital was that nurse Pickering had that geeky porter whipped, but he knew better. After all he was the one the head sister, dragon lady of the nurses, had chosen for her own.

And he had even found a scrap of paper where she had practised writing his last name with her first.

His Nina of the many hidden scars.

The same scars he had learned to identify in the dark, the ones he revered like an ancient map. Scars left behind by faceless lovers and tormentors before him. Scars he had given her after his fervent promise never to hurt her himself.

George had failed, and yet she loved him with all her fire and sarcasm.

He had woken to her elfish face, a sweet smile kept only for him and fresh tears over weeklong roads of salt water on her cheeks.

Death had granted a reprieve.

A couple days later he was being released to the astonishment of doctors and nurses at the fact that his body didn't show any real consequence of his gruesome attack.

So back it was to his little pink house with mismatched wallpaper and tenants.

He limped a bit as he walked to the entrance door aided by Mitchell, followed closely by Nina carrying the bag of his personal effects. Before his best friend even had time to look for the keys in the pockets of his worn leather jacket the door opened suddenly to reveal an overexcited Annie.

"George! You're home!" She said launching herself to hug him.

"Ouch! Ouch! Annie, still sore, I'm happy to see you too sweetie, but mind the ribs."

"Oh, sorry. Come in, come in." She said beaming.

Just like before Annie had been posting messages on the wall, George thought. This time though it wasn't an angry paint-as-blood-substitute message.

"That is lovely Annie, much better than 'Get out'."

"Will you ever let that go?"

"You know I'm just teasing. You shouldn't feel embarrassed about it."

"Oh yeah. I'm the one who should be embarrassed and not the werewolf and the vampire who came valiantly to fight the intruder holding a cricket bat and an umbrella? Seriously?"

Nina witness the exchange in silence, slightly irritated at being the third wheel in a very sick threesome. She cared deeply for Annie; after all she had been there to ease her into her new supernatural life. She couldn't quite say the same thing for the vampire, (sorry Mitchell, but when you've been burned badly you learn to be wary of fire.) But she understood the deep bond he shared with George.

If she had to admit it under duress she'd had to say that she knew that although George would probably choose her over his friends if her life depended on it, there would always be a part of George's heart impenetrable to her.

"Are you both done reminiscing? George, you're not exactly light mate, where do you want to be for now, your bed? Kitchen? Sofa?" Mitchell asked mildly irritated.

"Sofa. I can't lie down on a bed for another minute."

"Remember you need to rest though." Nina reminded him.

"I'm going to make you the very best cup of tea you have ever tasted." Annie announced teleporting to the kitchen.

"Nina my love, why don't you lie down, you look very tired." George said as he was sitting down on the sofa looking up to his girlfriend, who despite being relieved to have him back was looking rather weary.

"I don't want to leave you." Nina was pleading now on her knees holding his hand.

"I'm okay. I'm home. Just go upstairs and rest okay?"

Mitchell witnessed the exchange while he pretended to rearrange knickknacks on the mantle. He thought that despite George being a comrade in arms, a fellow countryman of him and Annie, the lover's intimate dialogue convinced him that indeed his friend had to be from the more affluent parts of the supernatural motherland, while he and Annie seemed to be natives of the Siberia equivalent, for the scene before his eyes was wonderfully mundane and alien nonetheless.

"Only because I have a shift tonight. But you wake me up if you need anything." She finally acquiesced.

"I love you too." George said warming up Nina's tough exterior. She just nodded pursing her lips and nodding in agreement.

Soon enough Annie was back in the room handing him a cup of tea as Mitchell was placing a stool in front of George for him to put one of his legs up.

"So… How long?" George asked finally once Nina had disappeared from sight.

"How long what?" Mitchell asked with a confused look, the same one that gave his strong brow a grave air.

"How long were you in hospital?" Annie suggested.

"A week. I know that." George explained. "And I don't mean that. Come on. Spit it out. How long?"

"What?" They both asked looking at each other for answers.

"How long have you been together?" George asked lifting his arms to point at them both. "Together?" He emphasised lifting his eyebrows at the implication.

Mitchell looked horrified while Annie covered her mouth with her hands.

"How? You've been here what? Five minutes?" Mitchell's voice was significantly higher than usual.

"I'm perceptive and not as oblivious as you two think I am."

"We don't think that George." Mitchell added.

"And still you haven't denied it so I must be right. I… still have it!" He said quite theatrically.

"Do you disapprove?" Annie ventured worriedly.

"Do I mind that you two were playing house while I was dancing with the Grim Reaper? Of course I do. Do I mind you two got together? I say it was bloody time."

"We were worried about you! And we weren't playing house… much…almost at all… we were thinking of you… all the time… well, almost, obviously…"

"Annie!" Mitchell had cringed at every word until it was too painful to let her continue. "And what do you mean it was time?" He asked turning back to George.

"You've been starry-eyed since you met…"

"I have not!" Annie interrupted.

"I meant Mitchell." George said to Mitchell's horror as Annie was looking down and back at him making the face he had come to recognize as her ghost answer to blushing.

"George!" The vampire yelled.

"Fine, you can both remain in primary school. I'm really glad you got together. I honestly am. If the worst had happened, I would have liked to know you had each other…" George said in all honesty.

Suddenly the light mood became sombre and Annie could feel the heavy weight of Mitchell's burden filling the room.

"George… I'm… oh George… It's all my fault." Mitchell declared looking down.

"It's not… Come on." It hadn't been George's purpose to make his friend feel guilty.

"I'll give you both some space." Annie said disappearing before they had time to complain.

"I should have done more." Mitchell said avoiding his stare.

"You can't honestly think this is all on your shoulders. I've always been a target. If anything you delayed it. Two years ago it should have been much worse." He was shaking his head as he spoke. "Back then I was too confused, and I was a bloody mess… Disgustingly weak… You saw it; I couldn't have moved a muscle to save myself… This time I put up a fight. I would have gotten away if I hadn't been for that bloody bloodsucker on my back."

"I'm going to find those who did this to you."

"You know who they are?"

"I know two. An old acquaintance and a female vampire he recruited recently. Do you remember anyone else?"

"I noticed a couple behind me when I was walking… Soon after they pounced and they were taunting me. You know the usual names: mutt, dog, fido… I stood my ground with the male and the girl was just egging him on. I had the upper hand but then someone else jumped me from behind. I couldn't see him, but I know it was a male… Soon after my glasses were broken and I was on the ground… That's it."

"His name is Arthur… Coward little bastard… He never attacked if he didn't have numbers advantage. Last I heard Arthur and Holly left town, but I have people looking for them."

"Thank you. I don't want you to blame yourself for this. We need you here, present and not spiralling down in despair…" George was silent for a few seconds. "She needs you." He said pointing to the ceiling.

"You both give me more credit than I deserve…"

"We're both here because of you. You haven't let us down… Don't forget that… And I guess this is when I should be telling you that you better be good to her… I'll kick your arse if you make her cry."

Mitchell smiled at the cliché but loved George even more for it.

"Are you done playing the protective brother?"

"Yes I think I am." George said smiling. He leaned back on the sofa and placed his hands behind his head with a smug. "You want to split a pizza and watch the telly?"

"You're a genius George."

* * *

Nina woke up to the image of a rather plump red-hatted gnome. 'What are you smiling at you idiot?' she thought. She hated the wallpaper and she hated George's narrow bed, but she couldn't help but smile at being back there and knowing her goofy looking boyfriend was back, in that moment she decided she could put up with that horrible room and his peculiar best friends if it made her love happy.

What she was not happy about was having to go to work, but she had already taken enough time off while George was in hospital. At least she had just had the best sleep since before her boyfriend was attacked, if even for a couple of hours.

Only George knew how vulnerable she could be and she'd make sure no one else could, so she put on her strict nurse's face and headed downstairs.

She wasn't ready for the sight that greeted her.

Mitchell was slumped on the sofa watching the telly with Annie sitting on his lap and reading a book. George got up from the armchair and limped towards her with a wide smile.

He held her hand and gently pulled her towards the kitchen. Nina offered her shoulder for him to lean on until he had reach a chair.

"What… is… that all about?" Asked Nina pointing towards the vampire and the ghost on the sofa. "How long was a I asleep?" Her bewilderment quite evident.

"Ah, that is the newest development in house dynamics." George said still proud as he sat down on the chair.

"Are you serious?" She asked frowning.

"Yeah."

"Oh." She was making a face.

"What is that for? You don't approve?" George asked frowning.

"Well, it just feels wrong, doesn't it?" She replied crinkling her nose.

"Really? I think it's more than convenient. It's meant to be."

"How could you think that?"

"Well, they're both dead, and Mitchell can take care of Annie after I … you know…"

"That's what fairy tales are made of, right? Convenience."

Nina knew she was exaggerating but she felt herself being pulled towards her common place.

"I really don't understand why you're so opposed to the idea."

"Well, she's so innocent and nice… And Mitchell…" Her arms were moving on the air unable to find a nice euphemism for mass murderer.

"You've never been crazy about him." George stated bluntly.

"I'm partial. I know it… But I've been burned too much by his kind."

"Vampires?"

"No! Don't be daft… By the too good looking rebel for his own good who seems to be waiting only for the right girl to end his broodiness and angst… You know the kind, the ones that say things like 'I just need someone to help me be better' and after they've done a number on you they leave you saying 'You couldn't love me the way I am.' "

Nina stopped suddenly afraid she had revealed more than she had intended for George to know about her past.

More than she herself wanted to remember.

"So it's not the vampire thing."

Fortunately or unfortunately her boyfriend could be so bloody dense, she thought as George managed to miss how transparent she was.

"Oh, the vampire thing is just the cherry on top."

"He's my best friend Nina." She sighed knowingly.

"I know. And I'll try not to be so prejudiced against him… She's just so cheerful and naïve and he's… he's… lethal sex on legs…"

"She seems to be able to handle him." George pointed out.

"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" She said almost as a whispered joke that only she'd understand.

Maybe Mitchell wasn't so different than her, she thought, and maybe her contempt for him was not too far from her own self-loath.

Christ, they could be two tortured peas in the same pod.

"Just give him a chance."

"I'll try."

"Come here and give us a kiss." He asked with open arms.

"I have to go to work." She said reluctantly.

"Then give me two."

She just couldn't say no to that bargain.

* * *

Everyday George woke up feeling stronger than the prior day. He could feel his body strengthening with the power of the Moon Goddess. 'What a waste.' He thought. To solder broken bones and close wounds when in just a few days time said bones would break once more. He thought of himself as a Humpty Dumpty of sorts, broken and put together again monthly, but one who'd never be whole again, not properly.

Without the curse he would have died from his attack. Though the attack came solely from the curse. It was just a moot paradox akin to the chicken and the egg. But at last the wolf and him were becoming one and the same.

No one goes through what he did unscathed. And he felt closer to Mitchell and Annie because of it.

He smiled at the irony. He was closer to the sombre world his mates inhabited and in turn they were blissfully immersing themselves in the normalcy of their relationship.

It was comical even to see Mitchell reduced to the novice role. He may have been a masterful lover after years of romancing his prey, but he was definitely a neophyte in a true relationship ground while Annie seemed to have been born to love. It wasn't just that for her the memories of past relationships, even if askew, were fresher; it was that for her loving someone was as easy as breathing.

Mitchell often pondered on this and often he'd end up frightened. Josie had been his last real thing and yet it was completely different from this. Josie and him had been an experiment akin the beauty and the beast. It wasn't a normal human relationship, not that Annie's and his could ever be, but with both of them dead the vampire and the ghost issue was pushed aside.

He was definitely not boyfriend material, not something to write home about.

But she was, and the thought made him smile. She was the kind of girl you tell your mother about.

He'd find himself mesmerised by her feminine mannerisms. He had decades of observations on women's movements and gestures: a finger twirling on hair, the sway of ample hips, that half-turn when walking by a reflective surface… He smiled remembering Josie extend her neck while she put on the heavy eyeliner so in vogue in the sixties.

He had more than a lifetime of memories of girls being feminine and yet none held a torch for the way Annie absentmindedly pushed her hair back baring her neck and shoulder. She had done that without thinking while she read her book. Her grey uniform this night was one of his favourites: a loose top that hung off her shoulder letting her sweet skin out in the open. That point where neck joined shoulder enthralled him, a personal favourite of old though no vein danced under her flesh.

He had approached her from behind with a movement performed ad nauseum in the past, this time though, his fangs were not out and his eyes remained human when his lips met her velvet skin.

Her hand had travelled back to rest on his hair and she had continued reading her novel. His blood would boil just at the thought of her not missing a line of her novel while the deadly predator was inches away from her jugular.

But that was his Annie, and he could feel the pride in his blood when he attached the possessive to her name, even if just in his thoughts.

She had been reading her book sitting on the littered floor of his room leaning on the foot of his bed. He had woken up to see her there. She often did that during the night while he slept. He wasn't happy about her wandering the streets alone after George's attack, and she had let him win that battle.

He slapped the book, with the silly little book light he had bought her at WHSmith, out of her hand and she had turned around annoyed. He didn't let her complain much because soon she had been pulled into the bed on top of him and his hands were trapping her firmly to him.

She had quickly forgotten her irritation when she realised she had the more advantageous position. He let her take the lead as he remembered the first time several weeks prior when he had stalked her like a prey and calmed his demons in her flesh. A wave of self-loath coursed through him for the violent need he had felt to sully her, to destroy everything that was good.

His girl was a phoenix, he thought, a wild orchid that could bloom in the filth.

But the thought was interrupted when he realised that his girl was also quite skilful at what she was doing, which was preventing him from having any rational thought.

Clothes were discarded and words hadn't been needed.

Mitchell felt happiness.

Pure unadulterated happiness.

'Being happy' was what she bashfully called it.

He had sat up unable to stay passive. His strong hand on her lower back keeping her close and the other on the back of her neck as they kissed.

He saw the spark on her face, on heavy lids and half open lips. And he couldn't do anything else but meet her there.

"Mitchell!" His name was called along with knocking on his door.

The voice yelling his name was the wrong one, too deep and muffled from the wrong side of the door.

He groaned in displeasure only to hear his name being called once more.

"One moment George!" He managed to reply.

"Mitchell, it's important." George said knocking on the door.

"This is kind of important as well." He said in return making Annie giggle with her forehead against his chest.

"Mitchell!"

George was obviously not going to get the hint and leave, so he gently turned them both and laid Annie on the bed while he disentangled himself from her.

"Mitchell! Open this door!"

"Bloody hell!" He said as he got up and pulled his pants on him and looked at Annie who had started to dress as well.

Mitchell opened the door slightly ready to punch George for the interruption.

"What is it George?" He asked clearly irritated and keeping the door half closed to stop his friend from looking inside.

"Look, I really don't want to come in. I guess Annie is in there. But there is a real emergency out here."

"What kind of emergency? Jesus George it's the middle of the night."

"Emergency as we have a couple of vampire callers at our front door right now." George said aggravated.

"Just give me a second." Mitchell said changing his demeanour instantly.


	12. Chapter 12

A couple of vampires out at their door.

That's what George had said, right? He couldn't have misheard him.

Now that put things into perspective.

Two amoral murderous blood-sucking undead beings members of his demonic family standing at the entrance of his safe haven.

Talk about unwanted distant relatives dropping by.

And that would definitely trump sexual frustration.

"Just give me a second." Mitchell said changing his demeanour instantly.

He closed the door and found himself alone in the room. He quickly grabbed a button-up shirt from the floor and put in on as he went outside to find George exactly where he had left him.

"What did they say?" The concern was visible on his face.

"They asked if I have accepted Jesus Christ as my personal saviour... What do you think they asked? They said: 'We're here to see Mitchell. Can we come in?' I obviously didn't and came to get you."

Impatient knocking on the door interrupted them so they went downstairs and Mitchell managed to button two or three buttons of his shirt. Once in front of the door both men looked at each other and nodded before Mitchell reached for the doorknob.

He wasn't expecting the two smiling faces outside his door when he opened it. "Ivan? Daisy?" He asked disconcerted.

"Hello gorgeous. Can we come in?" Daisy asked.

"Hell no! What do you think you are doing coming to my house?"

"My friend you really want to hear what we have to say." Ivan stated laconically.

"You're not inviting them in, are you Mitchell?" George asked worriedly from behind the door.

"George I assume." Ivan asked as he pushed the door to reveal the werewolf. "This involves you too, I think you'd want to know about your attackers."

"Did you find them?" Mitchell asked throwing the door completely open.

"Sort of." He replied inscrutably.

Mitchell considered his options and despite George's unspoken plea he yielded.

"Okay... Come in."

"Mitchell!" George shrieked.

"We have no option George."

The couple came inside remaining in the entryway.

"This is place is just so... peculiar. Cosy really..." The tall male vampire commented diplomatically.

"It's kind of a dump." The wispy one commented while picking up odds and ends from table next to the entrance where the telephone rested.

"Daisy, please do not touch anything." Mitchell admonished her.

"Are you afraid I might break something? How would you know?" The redhead asked jabbing them both.

"We'd know. Please put that down." George said taking the objects from her hands and settling them back down.

"I'm Daisy by the way. I've been meaning to meet you." She said leaning in.

"Daisy!"

"I'm just introducing myself... John."

"Why don't we all go to the parlour?" Mitchell suggested visibly anxious.

Mitchell waited as his guests followed George into the room, he then noticed Annie standing in the shade on the stairs her face darkened and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Annie. I didn't see you there. Care to join us?"

"After you... John."

He had never warmed up to his baptismal name. Those who loved him, the very few, had never called him by the name. His own mother refrain since that had been the name of the father he never met. His mother called him "dear, love, my boy..." never John.

His brothers in arms had called him Mitchell. John was the name of the despicable legend.

He noted in the tone she had used her discontent at what she interpreted as intimacy on the use of his first name.

How could he explain to her that he never wanted to hear that horrid name uttered by her lips?

"Annie!"

"Why was she calling you John?"

"She's just... It's nothing okay? She just wants to get on my nerves and she's succeeding."

His fingers reached for the fine knitting of her cardigan on her wrist and pulled her towards him. 'There will be time to explain' he thought and he hoped she could read it in his eyes. Now, he only wanted Ivan and Daisy out as soon as possible.

His fingers had intertwined with hers and he was silently asking her to join them.

Annie reluctantly walked into the room.

"Mitchell, care to introduce us?" The well-mannered vampire requested.

"This is Ivan and his 'lovely' wife Daisy. These are my house mates George and Annie, this is her house."

"You're Annie? You're like a little doll. What a cute little play thing! No wonder why you've been so worked up lately." Daisy teased Mitchell.

"Are all female vampires sociopathic condescending nymphos?" Annie asked turning her head slightly.

"Have we been reading encyclopaedias at night when we're not having fun experimenting with a bit of fang?"

"Daisy! Can it." Mitchell admonished while Annie mouthed the word 'bitch'.

"Mitchell, I think maybe you and I should talk in private."

"No, hang on. You said this concerns me. I want to hear what you have to say." George intervened.

"Daisy love, could you find me a cup of tea?"

"You're joking right? You know I don't do the domestic thing."

"Daisy."

"Fine. But I'm not promising not to break anything."

"Oh no you're not going to break my china. I'll... help you." Annie offered reluctantly.

Mitchell stopped her as she walked by her and whispered 'Thank you.'

"Did you find George's attackers?" He asked then turning back at Ivan.

"No."

"So why in the name of Jesus would you come to my home at this time at night?"

"Someone left a parcel for you at the undertakers."

"A bloody parcel? You're moonlighting as a FedEx delivery man now?"

"So, I'm up at this unholy hour because a vampire left a package for you? Have you vampires ever heard of texting? Unbelievable!" George exclaimed.

"You tell me if it wasn't appropriate for me to bring you this at this time." Ivan replied handing out a small box.

"What is it?" George asked as Mitchell opened it.

"Fangs."

"Is that a joke? Fake fangs?"

"No. These are real. Two sets."

"Who would send something like that? That's really disturbing. Not to mention unhygienic."

"I don't know. Who left this for me Ivan?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that my friend. Dylan found it at the door. It came with this note addressed to you. I opened both, I hope you don't mind."

"What does it say?" George inquired.

"Arthur and Holly are dead."

"I'd say you have a very creepy groupie." His friend commented.

"But why me?"

"You put the word out that you were looking for them." Ivan theorised.

"I didn't say that it was dead or alive."

"So... Someone wants to impress you?" George asked.

"I reckon it's more of a threat." Mitchell said knowingly.

* * *

In the kitchen Annie was oblivious to what happened in the living room. Through the window she could see the three males gathered closely looking at something out of her sight.

"So... You've known Mitchell for a long time." Annie asked turning back her attention to the electric kettle and at her uninvited guest.

"Define long, love..." Daisy said smiling mischievously as she jumped to sit on the counter closer to the stove. "Time is a tricky thing for our kind... But, yeah, I've known Mitchell for a while... Big bad John." She said over enunciating each one of the words.

"John...?" Annie said turning her attention to her tea box not really looking for a sachet but moving them about and lifting her eyebrows.

"Wait..." Daisy spoke leaning forward. "Are you asking if we have shagged?"

"I really didn't..." Annie replied shaking her head nervously.

"Were you jealous? That's rich... I don't know... There were some parties in the sixties... Plenty of people involved so it's possible, you know how experimental those years were."

"It's not like that."

"Oh love, do not confuse that little head of yours. Mitchell can't befriend women."

"He did it with me... I mean... He cares about me."

"You're close I'm sure. But he's not your friend... And he doesn't want to be your friend."

"And how would you know that?" She asked with contempt.

"Decades of knowing him... And of course the long legend that trails John Mitchell."

"So he used to be a bit of a ladies man... besides a killer... I knew that... And God knows he's easy on the eyes... But he's changed."

As Annie spoke she heard herself justifying his past and wondered if she was trying to convince herself as well.

"Oh he can smoulder anyone into lowering their knickers alright..." The ginger vampire smiled when she saw Annie lowering her eyes in embarrassment. "But that's not the worst of his traits honey. See, he gets moral every few years and gets on the wagon and falls in love with his food... It really is a nasty habit of his to look for redemption in between a lovely pair of legs... And you seem to have quite a lovely pair... But you're only friends right?" She teased.

"Right..."

"But let's talk about something more interesting. What's George's story?"

"I thought you said you're married."

"He's not my owner. Is he?" Daisy said defiantly.

"George is in a relationship anyways. To a werewolf as a matter of fact."

"The bitch."

"Don't you vampires have some sort of acute dislike of werewolves?" Annie asked truly intrigued.

"Hasn't stopped Mitchell has it? I'm a bit of a collector and a werewolf sounds so... exotic. One that took care of Herrick nonetheless."

"Well he's off limits."

"You're quite territorial, aren't you?"

"I care about my boys."

"Fair enough. But if George gets tired of his..."

"Careful." Annie cautioned her with her ringed finger.

"...Werewolf, make sure to point him towards me, okay honey?"

"Sure. You want to take his tea to your... husband?" She asked handing her the cup and teleporting back to the room with the boys without waiting for her response.

The three men were staring gravely at the small box on Mitchell's hand when Annie appeared right next to Mitchell, making suave Ivan lose his poise.

"Jesus Annie!" Mitchell said.

"You shouldn't rent-a-ghost like that if you want me to live longer."

"You're... quite talented." Ivan said recovering.

"Here's your tea honey." Daisy said handing him the cup brusquely and spilling a bit.

"Thank you." He replied.

"What is that?" Annie asked looking down over Mitchell's shoulder and into the box in his hand.

She could read the weight of the unsaid in both Mitchell and George's eyes.

"Annie..." "Whose are these? Why do you have them?"

"They're Arthur and Holly's..."

"Someone addressed it to Mitchell." George added.

"It's nothing. You don't have to worry." Mitchell stated.

"No. Don't patronise me. I've watched 'The Godfather'. Someone is threatening you."

"Clever girl." Ivan added in between sips.

"I think this is enough for one night. Ivan, you and Daisy better be going. Thank you for bringing this here."

"Annie, it was a pleasure and this tea is to die for. Mitchell, this girl is a keeper... George... It was... interesting. Daisy, love. Let's go."

Annie remained in her place while Mitchell and George saw the vampires off. She couldn't move due to the Earth-shattering thought in her mind:

Immortality suddenly had an expiration date.

It was not that she hadn't thought about it before; the day her door had come and gone Mitchell had gotten quite close to it. He was their rock, and as an ancient stone he predated them. He would also have to outlive them: Certainly he would outlive George, not necessarily outlive her, but she was supposed to pass on before him. That had been the plan at first anyway.

The day of her door she was supposed to leave. She guessed that since the beginning of their three-way friendship, she was just the passer by.

George had been bothered by her, his plan for humanity was complex with a vampire and a werewolf as it were, never mind adding a ghost to the mix. But he had tolerated her since he thought she'd be leaving as soon as she dealt with her unfinished business.

She had believed that as well. That was what she was supposed to do; no one told her she had a choice. But then that whole Herrick thing had happened and she had missed her train, so to speak.

It had been so sudden and violent and her attention was on helping Mitchell. She hadn't stopped to think that he might have been dying.

And of course back then she hadn't felt for him like she did now... She cared for him deeply, yes, but not... 'No, I better not think about it' She thought.

Her door had gone and while she felt, once more, like the castaway she truly was, she had learned to accept that maybe she was here to stay.

The thought was terrifying: An eternity of living without being seen, heard or touched.

But she had her boys, she would have George for a while, but she knew he'd eventually find his way and live the life he still had to live. Nina would make sure of that.

And then there was Mitchell with his promise of eternal life.

She had naively believed he'd always be there for her, as long as she could keep the doors at bay.

And now that notion was shattered.

Forever was made of the most fragile glass.

She could feel the vertigo growing within her, her once lithe body getting heavier and heavier rooting her to the ground. She wondered if she could turn to stone.

The fear almost made her gag just like when in her dream she had heard George yell.

Her mind was playing tricks on her, making her feel her emotions in her ghost body like she wasn't hollow.

"That was... not enjoyable at all..." George said breaking the silence and her thoughts as soon as Mitchell closed the door. "Let's... not do... that... any time soon, shall we?" He continued looking back and forth from Mitchell and Annie and sensing the icy silence. "Very well then... I'm off to bed."

"We should go to bed as well." Mitchell said and she followed him in silence.

He could sense her uneasiness and despite the eternal conundrum women usually were to men he knew her burden. The problem was that he didn't want to dwell on it. He almost chuckled thinking about the irony: For years he had lived carelessly, chasing the true final death out of how much he hated himself; now that he truly wanted to live, death was keeping close.

She had lied down on his bed, keeping herself close in the foetal position. He settled down close, his head almost lying on the pillow of her curls.

In the dark his arm finally gathered her close.

"Don't go away." Mitchell pleaded giving up on not being the one to beg first.

"I'm not going anywhere." She replied without turning to see him, afraid of what he'd be able to see in her eyes.

"No. Here." He said kissing the back of her head. "You're thinking too much about it."

"And I shouldn't?" She said turning now; upset that he couldn't figure out what scared her.

"It's not worth the trouble. I can handle it."

"How can you act like this is nothing? Someone sent you a very clear message... And you think I'm worrying for nothing? You may have forgotten but we almost lost you a few months ago. Have you even stopped to think what it would do to us? To me? You think it would be easy to move on... after you?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"Don't make a promise you're not planning on keeping."

"I promise you." God he hoped he'd be able to keep it.

* * *

Another promise reverberated in a lover's mind in the other side of the city.

'Like gods' she heard him say in her thoughts. 'We'll rule the Earth and we'll be like gods' he had promised her, but the beast had ripped him apart.

Cara seethed at the thought. He had chosen her and pulled her from her pathetic life with her menial job at the canteen.

'We'll be like gods' he said and kissed her with the passion she had only seen on the stories on the telly. The kind of passion for which she daydreamed when she was a girl and silly little tarts would mock her about it.

The memories strengthened her resolve.

"I left the package. Nobody saw me." Cara informed the dark figure in the alleyway.

"You're a good soldier. I see why old William kept you around."

"I was going to be his dark bride." She said with pride.

"I'm sure my dear... Now tell me more about his... acquaintances..."

Cara knew the man was not looking to avenge her Herrick's death. She wasn't as stupid as people often thought of her. But she'd gladly sell her soul to whoever was willing to kill Mitchell, that ungrateful bastard, and his dog.

To make him feel the despair she felt for her lost love.

* * *

No one was stating the obvious in Windsor Terrace. As days went by it had become easier to pretend a threat had not been made. Mitchell was seldom home and whenever Annie wanted to raise the issue, to complain for his absences he'd quiet her with a kiss.

It was condescending and infuriating, but she was also starved of his company, of his touch. If she didn't fear the day he wouldn't be coming through the door she'd lash out at him.

'So weak' she'd whisper to herself every time he'd leave planting a kiss on her forehead and leaving her to gather her legs with her arms burying herself in the cocoon of his empty bed.

Why was she mourning him, missing him when he hadn't left her... yet. She had followed him once, stalked him from afar, and hid in corners and nooks at the hospital.

She was a ghost after all, and wasn't it her prerogative to haunt those she was too stubborn to leave behind?

He hadn't agreed with her argument. So she'd gone back to her long walks.

People could see her now, and yet she was still invisible, when she rode the bus looking at people and listening to out-of-context conversations.

She'd go to the supermarket and make up stories when the cashier was ringing up her shop.

Today she had picked up oranges. She took her sweet time choosing them, every one of them, weighing them in her palm, bringing each one to her nose to smell their scent (was she really noticing the smell, or was that a phantom perception playing tricks on her again?), placing each one in her basket.

As long as she could keep the charade of those little chores she'd be okay, until again she'd be on her own in her pink house thinking and dreading. On the way there she could still smile and daydream while she nodded at old ladies that call her things like 'dearie' and 'love'.

She'd see the same faces day in and day out. Every single one a fixture in the picturesque quotidian life in Bristol.

But not today, there was something out of place. A new face in the costumbrist novel she invented for her own private pleasure day after day.

In the corner of her eye a stoic figure looking at her from across the street. She knew his kind. No one could stay that still. No one alive. His face half hidden on the shade, he was wearing a dark suit and leather gloves. She didn't need to see dark eyes or fangs to know.

Annie had turned abruptly and the bag of oranges had ripped with the golden fruit spilling on the street. She had finally stopped looking at the vampire in order to pick up the oranges.

She was too engrossed on the task to notice anything until an arm hooked up hers and pulled her to her feet.

"Door at nine o' clock. I thought you'd like to know." The uniformed man told her without letting go and forcing her to walk forward.

"What?" She asked confused feeling herself being pulled.

"I think you and I should run." He added instead pulling her harder.

"Hey, wait, let me go. You're not taking me. I'm not letting you take me." She said planting her feet down.

"Love, if you haven't noticed we're running AWAY from the door, not towards it, so wise up and drop the oranges."

* * *

"That was close." Annie exhaled when they finally got far enough.

"I'd say so. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings. With such a rookie behaviour you'll be gone before you know it."

"I happen to have closed a few doors on my own." Annie said annoyed at the implication while she placed her hands on her waist.

"Yes, I know, I can read in your aura. I'd say it was impressive, but doing it out of hysterics is far from an achievement."

"Who are you?"

"The name is Sykes."

"I'm Annie." She said offering her hand and a smile unable to hide her excitement at another ghost.

She wondered why it was that you could shake a tree in Bristol and vampires would fall out, but ghosts were much more harder to find.

"Wow... You are... quite something else, aren't you?" The soldier said looking at her in more detail.

"What is it about me, do I have a neon sign on my forehead that reads 'this woman is weird'? I'm getting tired at everybody saying that about me and not explaining why." Annie said bothered by the comment.

"Okay... That was interesting. Anyway... And I'm off. Cheerio."

"Hey, wait!" She was now chasing after him.

"Look Miss, I helped you. You're fine. You're not indebted to me or anything, so don't follow."

"Wait. You can't just do that! If you think I need so much more schooling on doors why don't you help me?"

"Because it's no my responsibility and I'm not planning on making it mine."

"Wait! Please, at least teach me about auras?"

"God! It's like feeding a puppy. What do I need to do? Throw rocks at you so you get the point? I did my noble act of the day. Now, shoo!" Sykes said shaking his hand at her.

"Yeah? Well I'll be more than happy to see the back of you! I don't need you. I can do great on my own! You can read auras? Well I make things explode... and... and... I can tell when it's going to rain... with 87% accuracy... well... 78... let's leave it at 67..."

"Ummm Annie?" Sykes asked with calm making Annie hopeful. "Yes?"

"People are staring at you. You want to know what people see in you? A crazy lady yelling at nobody out in the street. Yeah... That is one of the things that make you different... You're the ghost that is visible and I'm the one who's checking out."

And with that he disappeared.

'Dead men,' Annie thought getting away from the people that looked at her wondering about her sanity. 'Pompous bastards.'


	13. Chapter 13

I have to admit that this is not my favourite chapter but I can't keep rewriting it. I think I need distance from this chapter. And anyway, I can't wait to what comes next. I promise the action will pick up in the following chapters, so bear with me if you're still reading.

* * *

A common mistake often made by Annie and George was forgetting how much life Mitchell had on them. It was easy to go by his looks and feel they were all twenty-somethings in a similar point in their lives, albeit odd ones. But in reality their vampire friend had already lapped them a few times in the lifetime race.

George had made the mistake when he assumed he had been Mitchell's first house mate. He wasn't. He wasn't even the first one with a beating heart.

Life for Annie was an ever-blooming flower and emotions spilled heavy and abundant.

Truth was that you could not compete with decades of silence, of burying thoughts and feelings deep down.

Perhaps it had started before the blood kiss, after all he came from an era where men where not encouraged to express their feelings, unless unbridled by the ale.

Mitchell was talkative when he was giddy certainly; they remembered him telling them all about their neighbours at the beginning of the human experiment, but the more his past came back to haunt him, he'd withdraw within himself.

He could not share his burdens, and Annie could not ask the question. She too was haunted by her past. Old Annie would nag her loved ones to open themselves up, but that had always gone wrong.

She knew it.

Every story had had a bad ending, the last one the worst of all. She yearned for him to let her in, and yet, she was afraid to force it out.

She came into the house around four, still pondering upon the last member of her kind she had met. They hadn't met a lot of werewolves, Tully had been a great disappointment, but at least George and Nina had each other. Vampires just couldn't keep away like bad pennies.

Ghosts on the other hand, were always more elusive and seriously lacking on information.

"Where were you?"

Why did his words sounded like a little boy's subtly recriminating his mother for leaving him alone? He hadn't intended it, he cursed silently at the lacking control on his emotions. He tried to cover it by playing it cool, leaning on the wall and relaxing his face. Unfortunately, his blank face had the tendency of looking too severe, as if deeply worried or with slight contempt.

His voice had broken her train of thought and she looked up to see him leaning sideways at the entrance of the kitchen.

"Uh? Ah… I went shopping… I felt like buying oranges." She stated guilelessly.

"You lost them?" Annie looked confused. "The oranges… You have no oranges."

"Oh… Long boring story…"

The odd encounter paled in comparison to the worry hanging silently in between them.

"Right."

This business of not showing his emotions was rapidly crashing down. Even Mitchell couldn't deny the jabbing power of the word.

"Oh you do not give me that attitude you… you… Irish vampire!" Annie said defiantly.

"That was really creative." The sarcasm was oozing out effortlessly.

Annie could taste rage in the back of her mouth. What was this development of late? Her emotions seemed to have corporeal manifestations and they rushed out at the drop of a hat. She wasn't sure what she was about to do, but it felt like the feelings were propelling her into action. Perhaps she would have gone poltergeist in hysterics, or like a period-drama lady she would have walked up to the rogue and slapped his face.

Or maybe she would have just disappeared if it hadn't been for George coming down the stairs to interrupt their Old West stare-off.

"Oh! You're both here…" He said tightening the belt of his burgundy dressing gown. "That is remarkable. Mitchell, to what do we owe the honour of your visit?"

Annie snorted.

"I still live here!" Mitchell responded shifting his ire to his best friend.

"Could have fooled me." Annie's snide remark stung.

"Finally you speak your mind." Mitchell said.

"Are you having a row?" George asked his friends, the slight higher tone of his words indicating his amusement.

"No!" Mitchell yelled while Annie disagreed. "Yes!"

They looked at each other making sense of what the other had said.

"So, if we're not, then I guess we're just using sarcasm as pleasantries." Annie commented.

"I was just asking where you were." Mitchell explained.

"Because I have to be home at your beck and call… right."

"You were out Annie?" George interrupted.

"Yes I was George! I went to the shops to get oranges."

"So where are they? The oranges?"

"It's a long story!" Annie barked at George.

"Alright then. I'll let you two to your fighting… Don't want to get hit in the crossfire." He said going up the stairs to his room.

"I need to go see Ivan." Mitchell said brushing by Annie to get to the door and grabbing his jacket on the way out.

"Alright then." Annie said looking around now that she had been left alone. "This is more like it."

And she went to the sofa to once again fill the remainder of her day watching television.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Since death Sykes' senses had enhanced. There hadn't been anyone to teach him the necessary ghost survival skills that he was now proud to possess. But then again, you don't get to be a Royal Air Force pilot during World War Two by being oblivious to your surroundings.

Everyday he would walk the streets of Bristol with determination. He observed and kept mental notes of the sites and the people, of daily habits and sporadic contingencies. For him war was not over, no matter what that hippie Beatle had said.

War was his constant, with its daily perils and its haunting regrets.

He was walking the trails of a public park, listening to the Bristol wind hiss in between the trees, the distant echo of kids playing nearby and the sound of his navy trench coat brushing the tall grass from time to time.

Until he noticed the added muffled sound of knitted boots following him.

"Are you seriously stalking me?" He asked looking back to the persistent ghost he had met a few days before.

"No!" She was quick to reply. "Maybe…Maybe you are the one following me." Annie theorised.

"I'm certainly talented. Following someone while walking ahead of them." Sykes commented dismissively.

"Fine… I was following you… But I didn't come here looking for you… I just happened to come to the park today and I noticed you… So I started following… You can't tell me that is not fate."

"Fate doesn't exist. Everything is the result of our decisions, albeit some of them are not fully conscious… Or thoroughly thought."

Annie frowned at the enigmatic comment.

"Very well… It may have been a coincidence but I'm not fond of being followed."

The comment saddened Annie and it was evident who thought Sykes was sending her away.

"Oh come on. Don't cry. I just meant if you're going to be going the same way as me I'd appreciate if you walked along. I haven't had a proper conversation in a long time."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The little ghost may not have known almost anything about survival skills, but he had to give it to her: She did have some seriously superb persuasion ones. He was pondering that while he seated in the sofa of a quirky little pink house while Annie made him tea.

It didn't matter that neither of them could drink it. She had made a rather strong point of it being her duty as host.

And it was his duty as her guest to shut up and act grateful.

Perhaps it was that Annie reminded him of his younger sister, the thought made him smile thinking about the many times he was forced to sit with her teddy bear and make small talk while she poured the imaginary tea.

That made more sense. They were playing tea party. 'In a way, being a ghost is a never-ending pretend game' he thought.

He had managed not to think of his little sister in sixty odd years and yet this helpless little ghost had made him. It was hard not to feel all the hard angles of his personality softening.

"Annie!"

A distinct Irish voice called from the door and Sykes stood up instinctively.

"Annie?" The dark haired vampire came into the parlour and mirrored the defensive stance of the uniformed ghost.

They both knew what the other one was; they were both army men with long after death lives to prove their survival was not casual occurrence.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my home?"

"Mitchell!" Annie called coming from the kitchen with a tray. "This is Sykes. He's a ghost like me." With an ear-to-ear grin she introduced her new friend while she handed them both cups with steaming tea. "This is Mitchell, he's one of the friends I was telling you about. George shouldn't be too long. We share the house."

Mitchell witnessed in disbelief the easiness with which Annie rambled on, as if they were not in a state of siege.

"May I ask you… Sykes… What are you doing in my property?"

"At the moment, pretending to drink tea. I'm afraid I can't tell you why, but you must know Annie better than I do, and therefore, it should make more sense to you than it does to me."

Was the stranger cheeking him? Mitchell wondered. He was acting all smug in his fancy Royal Air Force garb and it was sitting very badly with him. He adopted then his smile of contempt

"You're really witty, aren't you?"

"Mitchell! Kitchen! Now!" Annie yelled at his rudeness.

Mitchell marched behind Annie towards the kitchen well aware that she was about to reprimand him.

"Why are you acting like that?" She asked half whispering and peeking back through the beaded curtain to make sure their guest could not hear them.

"Like what?"

"He is my guest and you're acting like he's a criminal!" She said pointing towards the living room.

"And how do I know he's not?"

Mitchell's tone of voice was rapidly getting higher.

"Because I know him!"

"For how long? You've never mentioned him before so it can be too long… Unless you have known him for long and you have been keeping that information from me."

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing. Why? Are you feeling guilty about something?"

"You barely even acknowledge me these days and you act all surprised that I have a life independent from you?"

Mitchell came closer to Annie consciously trying to intimidate her by his closeness.

"I'm not fond to coming to my house and finding some random stranger-" He wasn't done talking when Annie interrupted him.

"What? Sitting on you sofa? Drinking your tea? Chatting up your woman?"

She knew he was trying to intimidate her and she was going to prove to him that she was no longer the quiet wallflower she had been in life.

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"Sykes is not a stranger. He's my friend and I invited him over to meet you and George. And to be honest you are embarrassing me."

"The only thing I'm saying is that you don't know him. You have no idea what his agenda is."

"Oh, and you do?"

"After everything that has happened, are you seriously trusting someone who just happened to find you?"

"I would have been taken, if he hadn't helped me."

That got his attention.

"When did this happen?" His hand was holding the intricate knitting of her cardigan sleeve.

"A few days ago. The long story with the oranges?"

Annie was now looking away and trying to diminish the importance of the event.

"And you didn't tell me?"

Was it shock and maybe disappointment in his voice? Annie wondered, but she quickly tried to stop reading too much into things.

"What's new to tell? Someone tries to pull me back every other week."

"But I'm your… We're together." Mitchell was now moving his arms in frustration.

"You have a problem with me not sharing every single thing that happens to me and all my thoughts and worries. Why is that ringing a bell? It couldn't possibly be because you do that yourself!"

Now that was that thought she was holding on to.

"It's hardly the same thing."

"Hmmm let me see… Having some mafia-like vampire sending you a direct threat is definitely nothing like having the afterlife sending you messages on the telly about your imminent appointment with the great beyond."

"I just don't want anything to happen to you." He said crossing his arms over his chest.

"And that is why I need Sykes to help me. And he probably would have, if you hadn't scared him. For him I'm just the nagging ghost that dragged him home only to have her vampire… something…yell at him. But listen to me, if he still wants to, for some unknown reason, he is going to help me whether you like it or not."

"Oh, so it's like that now? You really can't see any other reason why I would be more than sceptic to have my… my… you… going off with someone we don't know!"

"I know him."

"For what? Five minutes?"

Their argument was loud enough for Sykes to be able to follow. He would have tuned that out by now but the fact that it was between a ghost and a vampire had him intrigued.

"For good or bad, actually quite bad, you and George had others like you for guidance. I really haven't had anyone to tell me about ghosts."

"There was Gilbert."

"Who taught me about having Gilbert fun, anarchy and eighties music. And yes, I did learn a bit from him, but he was gone much too soon."

"I've told you things about ghosts." The vampire had explained.

"But you're not one, and you can't really understand what it is like."

"I know what is like to be dead."

"It's not the same and you know it. I need this. And you are going to have to learn to be fine with this, because I'm not asking for your permission."

"Fine! But be careful. And he should know George and I care for you, that we're family, and… that you're not unattached."

'Real smooth, you idiot." Mitchell thought.

"So this is what we're talking about here? That I didn't tell him that I'm… what? Spoken for?"

Mitchell didn't respond and Annie didn't press him to. Hey were just looking intensely at each other sure about only one thing: that neither of them wanted to be the first one to speak.

"Hi guys! I'm home and I'm in the mood to cook. So prepare your palates!"

George yelled as he came through the door, too concerned about the shopping bags he was carrying and not noticing anything amiss while he set the numerous bags down to close the door properly.

As he fumbled with the things he carried and tried to take off his jacket he kept talking.

"Tonight is going to be great and my beautiful and sexy lady friend is going to come over…" By now he was looking for his friends, expecting to see Annie watching television. "Annie? Oh… Hello… Strange person sitting on my sofa… I'm George." He introduced himself awkwardly to the stranger.

"Hi George. I'm Sykes. Annie brought me. I believe your friends are in the kitchen fighting."

"Are they?" George asked turning around in confusion to see the silhouettes of his friends in the kitchen.

"Apparently Mitchell is very guarded and not too keen to having people he doesn't know over, or terribly jealous of Annie spending time with another person. And Annie is not too happy with the way he's been behaving. That's what I've got so far. But don't quote me, I may be mistaken."

"Could you… give me a minute? I should go and find them." George said leaving him on his own once more.

He came into the kitchen to find them both stoic and looking quite severe. He cleared his throat loudly trying to get their attention.

"Ah… Guys I hope you realise he can hear you all the way there… Whoever that is."

"That is my friend Sykes, who I can invite to my own home whenever I damn please!" Annie yelled to George.

"May I ask what the problem is?"

"Not the best time George." Mitchell dismissed him.

"No. I think it would be great to get his opinion. So George, do you think I'm insane for wanting someone of my own people to teach me more about being a ghost?"

"Your own people? You make it sound like we're talking about clansmen."

"He's a ghost like me! And since when do I have anything to say about you two bringing werewolves and vampires home?"

"So George… Do you think it's wise to have some random stranger take Annie away from us to allegedly train her?" Mitchell then asked George.

"Well… I totally see where you're coming from Mitchell… But…"

"Oh! Come on!"

"As I was saying… You want Annie's safety. I do as well… Why refuse the best bet we have for her to reach her full potential?"

Mitchell didn't have to reply since the former pilot came to join them in the kitchen.

"Sorry to interrupt you, but now it may be the best time for me to mention that I do not intend to train Annie." He said standing straight with his hands on his back.

"Finally… common sense. Nice to meet you mate…" Mitchell said now pleased at the unexpected outcome.

"Wait!" Annie yelled in frustration.

"Excuse me… May I ask why couldn't you help Annie?" George intervened.

"Because it's not some adult education course. There is only one passing grade and that is excellent. If you make one mistake you're gone. I cannot be responsible for that."

"But if you don't help me I'm gone anyways." Annie's tone had lost the spark. She felt exhausted always swimming upstream. She wasn't going to scream or argue anymore. "Please."

Sykes looked at her in silence.

Sixty plus years of keeping her away from his memories, but yet again she had conjured her in his mind. He couldn't say no to Elizabeth's sad eyes, and apparently he couldn't say no to Annie's either.

"Okay…" He finally conceded.

Mitchell felt guilty at his apprehension when he noticed Annie's vulnerability. He just nodded admitting defeat and he also noticed George's slight smile and he's covert attempt to brush off a tear while he pretended to clean his glasses.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Gentlemen… Ma'am…" Sykes said as he slightly bowed his head before disappearing.

"Okay. He's trustable. I'll give him that… But what's with the whole Royal Air Force thing going on? I was in a war too you know? You don't see me saluting anyone…"

"Are you feeling less than confident on yourself Mitchell? Or are you jealous? This is great! I didn't think I'd live long enough for it!" George asked smiling pleased.

"Keep it up and you won't."

"Oh-oh, you are not going to twist this on to George because there's a certain vampire in this household who should be sleeping with one eye open because he may get staked." Annie said looking intently at Mitchell before disappearing.

"I guess you're sleeping alone tonight mate."

"Shut up George!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sykes and Annie were sitting on the grass together looking at people's auras. Annie had master the skill quite easily.

"That whole domestic thing…" Sykes started.

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean? People have to have a home." Annie replied confused by her friend's consternation at her living arrangements.

"Not ghosts."

"Aren't we supposed to haunt houses and stuff?"

"In films! And I guess there are some who have very obsessive unfinished business… I've known a few… But they are not quite there in their minds, you know? It's like they're stuck in an endless loop… Not like you and me… I thought you'd know about this… How long have you been dead?"

"Closing on two years." Annie replied looking away into the horizon feeling quite the late bloomer in the afterlife department.

"Dear God! How could you not know this?"

"My introductory welcome basket never arrived?"

"But you surely have known other ghosts."

Annie smiled remembering Gilbert. He surely taught her a lot, in an indirect and wonderful way, but she was still so far from where she should be.

"Not really. I met one but he moved on soon after."

"The vampire and the werewolf… They didn't tell you?"

"They've told me what they knew. It's not like they're keeping anything from me."

"Which reminds me of my first comment. Why would you keep those living arrangements?" Sykes reiterated.

How could she answer that question? For so long she believed she was tied to every single brick and nail of the house, from the crack tile to the tea urn. But now she knew that it was so much more than that.

"Well… It's my home."

"You died there."

"Yes… But it's more, it's my home and they are my family."

"It's odd." The pilot commented looking away.

"Why?"

"Well, the nature of the ghost is to roam. We are the ultimately freest being. You can roam the earth; you need no sleep, no sustenance, no money. Nothing ties you down. Surely at first you were tied to the place were you died, but once you've grown and become stronger and more solid you are free to go where you may."

"How does that work? Being tied to one place and then not?"

"Well, I guess you need an anchor. At first it is the place where you died and then it evolves. They can be a token, a desire, a memory… a fear…"

"Or a love…" Annie suggested.

"I guess so."

Both ghosts remained silent for a few minutes or a few hours. Time was such a funny thing when you're dead.

"Can I read supernatural auras?" Annie asked finally.

"Yes."

"What if I read yours?"

"Don't!" He said holding on to her sleeve and frightening her a little in the process.

"Sorry… I won't, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Listen to me Annie: You have to be careful with it. People are entitled to their personal thoughts, you wouldn't want anyone to go digging through your thoughts right?"

"Oh god, that would be awful."

"The same applies to feelings and emotions."

"Are you just about to quote Spiderman and tell me 'with great power comes great responsibility'?"

"What is Spiderman?" Sykes asked seriously.

"Never mind…. I mean, you didn't just teach me this just to tell not to do it."

"Now… We're different, we're ghosts. We're not like vampires and werewolves. We have to make do with what we can. But it's not always nice to be able to sense someone's complete array of emotions."

"Okay… So what else are you going to teach me?"

"That is all for today. We'll cover more tomorrow." Sykes said getting up and saluting Annie before disappearing.

XXXXXX

Annie had been telling George about her newfound skills while they were sitting at the kitchen table. George had asked her to read his aura and they were both giddy like kids learning new magic tricks.

Annie was the first one to feel the cold air getting twisted inside her chest, while George was the first to notice the acrid smell of rusting blood. They looked at each other in panic and Annie didn't even need to see the scarlet tint spreading like wildfire in her dear friend's aura; the bid pools of his eyes were enough.

They were looking with trepidation toward the entrance before the door opened.

He came abruptly through the beaded curtain: all dark eyes and covered with blood.

"Mitchell! What happened? Whose blood is that?" George yelled walking towards him.

Annie looked down afraid to look at his aura. She wanted to make sure her power was dormant before she looked at Mitchell, too afraid of what she'd be able to read in him.

"Relax… It's my blood." Mitchell said shaking his head slowly trying to clear his eyes.

"How is that supposed to make me relax?" George asked as Annie got to her feet with her hand on her chest, instinctively trying to calm her ghost heart galloping away.

"I saw both your faces… and me being me… Believe me, coming home covered in my own blood is about the best possible scenario." He said taking the blood-covered leather jacket off.

"What happened?" Annie asked coming closer and wiping his violet and crimson cheek.

"There was a coup."

"A vampire coup?" George inquired.

"No, George. Britain is abolishing the monarchy. Of course a vampire coup! What kind of idiotic question is that?"

George just grimaced.

"I'm sorry. Today was quite a shitty day."

Annie spoke then.

"Let's get you to the bathroom and get you sorted out."

"It doesn't matter. The bruises won't last long."

"Well I doubt you want to go to bed covered in dirt and blood."

"Annie's right." George agreed.

"Fine…"

They took him to the bathroom and settled him on the edge of the bathtub. Mitchell felt silly with both of them fussing over his bruises and cuts but he stayed still feeling it was more important to them than to him.

"Should I call Nina to come and take a look at you?" George asked after bringing Annie alcohol, swabs and any other things from their first-aid kit that looked remotely useful in that situation.

"I think your girlfriend would be less than thrilled to be woken up on her night off to tend to the wounds of this sorry-arsed vampire… And not to mention I don't happen to be her favourite person in the world blood-sucking things aside."

"Oh… that's… not… true… entirely…" George replied uncomfortably.

Mitchell felt Annie's hands cleaning his face wounds and he noticed they were shaking. He grabbed hold of them and tried to lighten the situation.

"Don't worry about Annie. Everything will be healed by the morning and I'll be my handsome old self."

"Don't joke about it." She said freeing herself and throwing the stained gauze in the rubbish bin.

"They really did a number on you." George commented looking intently at Mitchell.

"They took over the funeral parlour."

"They?"

"Some of the newer vampires… Apparently someone is being preaching that change is needed. And change seems to start with getting rid of Ivan, myself and a few others."

"Mitchell…" Annie sighed and he took hold of her hand once more.

"I'll go get you a clean shirt." George said sensing they needed privacy.

"I'm okay. You don't have to worry." He said looking up from his sitting position.

"Of course I worry. I care about you." Annie said standing in between his legs.

"I'm okay, I promise… and besides, the only really bad thing that could have happened would have involved a stake and they didn't bring any stakes."

"And what, if they had? Would I have eventually found your ashes along with your boots?" Annie asked with her voice showing clearly how shaken she was.

"I can take care of myself and I won't be leaving you anytime soon, alright?"

He pulled the hem of her camisole and tied his arms around her waist. His head was buried against her abdomen and his fingers were getting tangled with the fabric of her clothes.

George came back to see that image from outside the bathroom. Annie was standing up with Mitchell sitting on the edge of the bathtub holding her tight with his face flush against her. George felt like he was intruding in a very intimate moment. It was almost voyeuristic to see them like that. George could sense something deeper, a bond between his friends that he'd never be a part of. He wasn't truly jealous or envious; it was just a lonely feeling, right then he remembered that well after his death they'd still roam the earth…

Only if Mitchell didn't get himself staked before that.


	14. Chapter 14

Just to show you how clueless I seem to be, last chapter was very well liked. So now I'll get nervous whenever I feel proud of another one. Oh well…

In all honesty I'm so grateful for you all who have been reading and a special thanks to those of you who take the time to comment. I would have given up a long time ago if it wasn't for you. I was starting to worry that this wasn't getting anywhere but bear with me, I do have a story arc. The funny thing is that when I thought of writing this fanfic I thought the arc would be too short and now I'm hoping it won't turn into a fifty-something chapter monster.

XXXXXXX

Annie would often torture herself trying to decide which was the blessing and which the curse: knowing one experience is your last as it is happening or blissfully ignoring it.

It had happened to her before her fall: there was the last time she kissed her mother goodbye, a last night at the cinema, a last cup of tea, a last time she felt truly loved.

After the door and her boys, she had forgotten there was a last of everything, she had been exonerated from that fate, after all, and eternity meant being past all her lasts.

But she was once more ruminating a last memory.

The trick of unknown lasts is that they're not pyrotechnic sequences edged in iron and fire. That last time hadn't been that, it was sweet and inconsequential like every last time should be: just one more link in the chain of innumerable moments that promised to never end.

It's only after you realise how naïve you were, thinking, as Auden once said, that love would last forever.

Annie longed for that last time she had felt safe.

George had never come back with the clean shirt and, so they found their way to Mitchell's bedroom. She had peeled off his body the rest of the bloody clothes, placing the ripped shirt and pants in a plastic bag to be discarded. Once she took it out to the trash she materialized back in the room; now that her hands were idle her mind was free to torment her.

She felt the abrupt hollowness of her ethereal body.

Annie sat down on the bed like a wilting flower remembering what it used to feel to have the air knocked out of your lungs.

Mitchell came and kneeled next to her when he noticed her change of demeanour.

"Are you okay?" He asked holding her hand.

"No." She said, her voice breaking a little.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't get scared at all." She cried out and suddenly he felt transported back to that day long ago when she had asked him if nothing fazed him.

"I do get scared darlin'. I'm scared about you being pulled through a door; I get scared about George being attacked again… I even get scared about something happening to Nina." He shared holding one of her wrists.

"No! Enough about us! You don't fear anything happening to you." She said touching the middle of his chest, looking for the small and round hidden scar. "Remember this?"

"How could I not?"

"I don't want to feel like that ever again…" She confessed. "How can you not worry about what can happen to you? Not to George and me, but to you? I want you to be scared, I want you to be terrified, damn it! I want you to look at me and not see me like I'm insane!"

"Oh Annie… I didn't used to… you know? Don't get me wrong… in the war… All that crap about being brave… Men in trenches trembling like little boys afraid of the dark… It's human to be afraid… When I met Herrick and Seth in that field… At first I thought they were the enemy but they turned… and their eyes… Suddenly I realised that there was a horrific world I only thought existed in my nightmares… I knew what real fear was… When he recruited me, the feel of blood leaving my body along with my life… Real unadulterated fear…"

Annie caressed his cheek while he spoke.

"After the change… I was never afraid… Blood makes you feel invincible, and to be honest, you don't think of anything besides the pleasure… Fear came when I'd sober up, so then I'd drink again… When I stopped, all those false starts… the fear would come again… But I have lived a very long life, one without much to lose… Not that I was ever suicidal… I'm bastard and the instinct to survive was there… And then… There was George… And there was you… My biggest fear is that something may happen to both of you… And yes, for the first time in a very long while I fear for myself, because for the first time I have something to live for… I'm not ready to go."

She put her hands on both sides of his face and pulled him towards her into a kiss. After a few moments Mitchell got up pulling her up with him, his arms wrapped around her slim waist. They got separated and she saw his sad eyes under a pair of too harsh eyebrows, whenever she saw him like this she wanted to run her fingertips over his brow bone until all his sorrows were gone.

"Love me." He said looking down at her face so close to his. The words had come out easily, a plea he didn't even know had been stuck in his chest god only knows for how long.

She smiled sweetly.

"You have been loved for a very long time." She said kissing him softly. Afterwards she looked into his eyes for a moment and Mitchell could have sworn he saw a flicker of his reflection in Annie's eyes. The image went away with a blink to keep her eyes dry, she sighed audibly and running her hands through his hair she continued. "And you will continue to be, for as long as I'm around."

Mitchell felt himself being punched in the gut and he gasped instinctively. He embraced his beautiful ghost, no more an echo, not a memory, but a body all warmth, texture and pulse. His fingers squeezed the flesh of her hip and nudged her to let him take her weight in his arms, and so she enveloped him with her limbs.

He may have been taking the lead but he felt vulnerable and open, his long forgotten heart held with care by her precious dainty hands.

Annie felt her aura expanding, her eyes were closed but she could see the colours dancing behind her lids, the hard wall that surrounded Mitchell finally appeared to have been taken down and, even if just for a night, she felt they were at last on the same ground, the same fears and the same hopes shared.

They weren't new lovers any more, Annie found herself thinking: in the dark they anticipated each other's movements. Whatever doubt in his head was cleared; he knew that this was the place to which he belonged when she'd greet his body. It'd make him feel ecstatic and sad all at the same time, just like he imagined coming home to Ireland would have been if he had survived the war.

Mitchell felt once more that overwhelming feeling when he entered her. When she so lovingly received him within herself. He was inside her and yet he could feel her in his mind. It was her growing within him, rushing through his veins like stolen blood had done before. She was consuming him, running wild inside him, and suddenly she was everywhere, inside and out.

At once strength and softness; at once drive and embrace.

His woman of violence and peace.

He had to admit that there was some physical need of having their skins touch, a bond between their minds formed; a way in which they spoke to each other without the need of words.

And they laid in silence for the rest of the night, their limbs as intertwined as their thoughts until Annie's eyes closed and he felt her mind drift gently into a calm sea.

Mitchell knew that often Annie would look at him while he slept, for all purposes dead to the world. To his knowledge, Annie had only slept a couple of times after dying. She was in his arms peacefully asleep, her still and cold beauty frozen on his chest needing only a glass coffin to stay preserved.

He looked at her gentle face peaceful against him, her unruly curls darkening part of it. A sudden thought made him dread the hollowness he'd feel when day came and she was no longer in his arms, and the notion was edged in stone: wherever he was without her, that would be the place, the sorrowful place where she'd be missed the most.

The fear nestled once more in thoughts. His eyes looked over to his dresser, where his wallet rested.

A bit of paper sticking out mocking him.

A couple of newspaper clippings has been left in an envelope on the windshield of his car. Two pieces of paper left there to haunt him: one from Scotland's 'Daily Record' detailing a bizarre and lethal animal attack and the other one from the obituary section of the 'Bristol Evening Post'. Both with the sad photographs of before the tragedy: Smiles of broken lives, oblivious and frozen forever, painful reminders of a future that never was.

Annie stirred a little in his arms and his heart ached. He had let himself get comfortable once more in her peace, but the threat had been made, and this time it was one that truly frightened him. The ante was upped and this time it was something he was too scared to lose.

The message had been clear.

He knew what he had to do.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Annie had woken up in his arms still, to his secret smile and olden eyes looking intently at her and. A lazy morning spent in bed, with him listening at her account of all the things that had happened to her the days before, those days in which she missed him dearly but she walked the streets talking to him in her mind, a constant dialogue with someone who's far away.

This was the bit of heaven he allowed himself to enjoy, knowing what was to come. Carefully preserving each memory for the lonely nights ahead.

They had spent a late breakfast with George and Nina, the three of them making plans that Mitchell listened to as if they were fairy tales.

Nina had left for her flat and there were plans for a feast to celebrate they were all together.

The opportunity came far too easily.

George was going to the shops and Mitchell had offered the whole night to be his treat. He asked Annie to go along and bring the best tea and coffee she could find.

They had gone unsuspecting.

Annie was eager to come back though; she didn't wait for George to open the door and she rent-a-ghosted inside not caring if she was being rude to her friend.

She stood at the door of his room, leaning on it, looking at him unaware of her presence while he fussed about something on his bed. His bare back was to her, and she drank, unapologetically, the spectacle of his tensing muscles. Her own shoulder was bare; her grey cardigan replaced by a grey loose vest with a strap having slid off her.

Her clothes were more revealing than usual and she didn't care: they felt like water sliding off her skin. It appeared that her emotions flowed sensually and her clothing showed it. Now that she was thinking of it, if she ever thought of her non-corporeal body as air she couldn't anymore, for she felt liquid now, both body and emotions were untameable sea waves.

He moved away from the bed putting on his shirt, and she saw the object that he had been fussing about: an open duffel bag full to the brim with his clothes.

She knew what it was, but she didn't want to accept the reality hitting her hard on the face.

"Are… Are we going on holiday?" She asked, her voice faltering.

"Annie…" He said surprised to see her back so soon.

She wasn't supposed to be there. They were supposed to take longer.

"No."

"Why are you packing then?"

Her desolate voice was tugging at his heart, but he knew he had to remain stoic.

"We are not going anywhere Annie."

"We're not?" She asked in response already knowing where they were headed but terrified of getting there.

"I am… Not going on holiday… I need to move out… For a while…" He said walking ever so carefully to her.

"No!" She felt sick to her stomach.

"You weren't supposed to be here." He said.

"You were just going to leave? And what about us? Were we supposed to figure out you were gone? Like a bad tenant that decides to leave in the night to avoid paying rent?" Her disappointment was palpable and cold.

"I was going to write you a letter."

"A letter?" She said incredulous. By now George was coming up the stairs having heard Annie yell.

"George! George! Mitchell is moving out! Did you know about this? Did you talk about it? 'Better take Annie away because you know how hysterical she gets?'" She could feel herself unravelling, the house trembling along with her.

"No. Annie I didn't know…" George told her looking into her eyes wanting her to see he was telling the truth. And then he turned to Mitchell: "I cannot believe you… You told me you wanted to do something nice for both of us… I would never do that Annie." George came closer to Mitchell his own fury evident.

"He didn't know…" Mitchell said coming closer to Annie and holding her hands. "I didn't know… okay? I just… There's no other way."

"What are you talking about?" George asked.

"You're not safe."

"So you'll leave us to fend for ourselves?" His friend added.

"No! I'm weak… You saw me last night. I can't protect you anymore… I couldn't protect you George. I need to go."

"Do you have any idea of how stupid that sounds?" Annie asked feeling old wounds reopen.

"You just don't understand." Mitchell said looking down to the floor.

"Make us please… Because I just can't…" She demanded.

"I got an envelope… a couple of days ago…"

"Like the fangs?" George asked.

"Worse… It had a couple of newspaper clippings. It was about your attack in Scotland… And… Annie's death notice… It's just not about me anymore… Whoever he is… He's coming for you… if I stay here, he'll come for you… I need to go."

"It has always been about us… All of us." George reminded him.

"So you're just going to go? Where?" Annie asked.

"To the funeral parlour."

"They made a clear point that you weren't welcomed there." His best friend said.

"My ways weren't… I could stay if I… complied."

"Are you switching sides now?" George said in rage and disbelief.

"You're going to kill again." Her words were not questioning, but uttering a painful prophecy.

"No! I just want to protect you. And I can't as long as I live here."

"Are you sure it is the only way?"

"Yes George."

Annie was pacing, there was thought fighting to come to the surface. She hadn't notice that she was shaking her head.

"You knew you were leaving. Since yesterday you knew." She finally said.

"It was the only way." Mitchell added knowing what she meant.

"And what about last night? Was that goodbye? One for the road?"

He knew her well: she'd say words, not to hurt him, but to hurt herself.

"Annie…"

"No… Don't speak anymore. Not unless it's to say you're not leaving. You promised me. You said you wouldn't leave me."

The scene before George was excruciating.

"I'm sorry. I need to do this. I'm not leaving you."

"And how come it feels like you are?" She asked defeated.

"It's for the best."

"Don't. Please." She said coming closer to him and holding his hands in a feeble attempt. "I'll beg if you want me to. I won't nag you anymore." She was now begging.

"Annie… Don't do this. I'm going… I don't want to leave you like this." He said looking sadly into her eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" George finally spoke.

"Don't let him do this to us. Please George stop him!" Annie yelled turning back to him and holding on to his flannel shirt. "Tell him he's wrong. We need him. Please… We can stop him, you and I… I'll lock the door… The full moon is close, you are stronger than him…"

"We can't make him stay Annie…" George said tears threatening to make an appearance with his hands cradling Annie's already tear-stained face.

She felt betrayed by both of them and broke free. Mitchell came then and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"For you… For George and for you Annie… I need to be there to protect you. I need to leave."

"So leave! Leave now!" She yelled turning back. "But not with my blessing. I know what that place does to you. And I'm not going to be around to pick up the pieces… to have you take all that evil out on me… It's over…If you leave… "

"I will come back. I promise." He said.

"You're my best friend, don't forget that. Be safe. For us." George said coming to him and hugging him.

"Keep her safe. Keep both of you safe." Mitchell said to George.

"You'll ring, right?" George asked.

"Of course."

Annie looked at both her boys no longer stifling her sobs. When both men parted Mitchell came to Annie and pulled her to him not waiting for her approval.

"What are you doing? No! Let go! I don't want a hug! Not like this!" She yelled trying to push him away. But soon it was too hard and she left herself sink into his arms.

"I know… I know, love… But _I_ need it…"

Soon after he had let her go, George taking over him supporting her body.

Mitchell grabbed his bag and his keys, and left them both there without looking back.

"He'll come back. He has to. It's all for us… However wrong he may be, it has always been about us."

Annie desperately tried to hold on to the hope George was offering her, but something deep inside her pulsed ominously.

After that day she would often torture herself thinking of that last night spent together. The last moment she had ever felt safe.


	15. Chapter 15

In the morning Nina was busy cooking breakfast while George narrated the events from the night before.

"So let me get this straight. Mitchell moved out?" Nina asked leaning back against the counter, in her surprise unknowingly pointing the egg-covered spatula towards her boyfriend and making bits of food snow all over the kitchen floor.

"Yes. And please remember to be tactful. Annie is not taking it well," George said over gesturing.

"Good to know you think so highly of me," Nina said turning back to her task visibly in a tiff.

"Come on Nina! You know what I mean. Mitchell is just not your favourite person."

Nina couldn't do anything but grimace at George since Annie came into the kitchen at the same time.

"Hi, Nina."

"Hi, sweetie," Nina said hugging Annie.

"George told you then. I'm okay. You don't have to whisper around me. It's just my usual overreacting."

George went over to her and placed his arm around her neck.

"We just worry. And I've told you: You don't have to act this way. He's coming back."

"I know. But I was awful, wasn't I? I did all the things that girlfriends shouldn't do. I nagged, and begged, and gave him an ultimatum. I didn't really mean saying it was all over," Annie said disentangling from him.

"Oh you silly billy! He knows you didn't mean it. If anyone knows about saying whatever hurtful thing they don't mean just to get a reaction it's him. Not that I condone what he did."

"Well…" Nina's voice got Annie and George's attention, both assuming a defensive stand anticipating her comments.

"Nina. Please don't," George started.

"You don't even know what I'm about to say George!" she reprimanded him with annoyance. "I, for one, understand what Mitchell did. I know I'm not his biggest fan, but this is about the most noble thing I've witness him doing."

"That's it! The world's gone mad," George said shaking his head as he walked around the room.

"Sure. Blame me for being wary of the murdering vampire…" Nina defended herself.

"Nina…" Annie intervened.

"Sorry. _Former_ murdering vampire. Anyways, after what happened to you, and knowing that there's someone out there nearly posting 'Wanted' signs of you all around Bristol, to see him making a sacrifice to try to keep us all safe… Well, I can see why he's doing it. It's a royally flawed idea, but noble none the less. And believe me, my love, that if it was me," She continued getting closer to George and touching his cheek, only to turn to look at Annie briefly right before ending her explanation, "who was faced with having my friends, and my partner in danger, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing."

"Thank you Nina," Annie said smiling slightly and disappearing.

"Do you think she's okay?" Nina asked concerned.

"Well, she's so not her cheery self. But I think it's understandable."

"No, I mean… Doesn't she look pale to you?"

"That's offensive Nina, she's a ghost!"

"I know she's a ghost. But she looks… Ashen… More than normal… Grey even, and I'm not talking about her clothes."

George turned toward the kitchen entrance as if he could still see her and thought for a minute.

"She is a projection of her state of mind, and her emotions. I expect her cardigan to grow a hoodie by tea time," he said finally turning back.

"Her top is getting quite loose already. Why don't you go and talk to her?"

"If she gets to the fingerless gloves stage I will."

"And to think a year ago I was missing out on this wonderful world," Nina muttered to herself looking back to a pan full of scrambled eggs that were rapidly looking less and less appealing.

XXXXXXXX

Mitchell sat in the diner quietly looking into his cup of coffee. He was procrastinating; he should just march his way in the undertakers and get it over with. He mused over all those reassuring words to George and Annie about how he'd manage, but the reality was that he was scared. The grip on his thirst and his mind was already shaky on a daily basis at best.

He had checked himself into a cheap motel and he had given notice at the hospital. Whatever the outcome of what he was about to do, he knew he wouldn't be keeping his shifts as a porter.

He could have stayed another day in the pink house while he got his affairs sorted out, but he knew he'd lose his courage. At least he still had this loose end to deal with before he absolutely had to go to B. Edwards. He kept looking at the dark liquid while he waited and tried to guess forms in the bit of light reflected on the drink. Perhaps he'd find a secret message; the right combination of words to break a spell.

"You look like shit John." Daisy's voice broke his concentration as she pushed him to make space for her in the booth.

"Thank you Daisy. Your insight is always very astute," Mitchell commented caustically as he watched Ivan sit across from him.

"She's right. You look really bad my friend… Cherchez la femme, I'd say," he mentioned as he signalled the waitress for a cup of coffee.

"I don't want to talk about her. I'm going back to the funeral parlour."

"Such a shame! And to think I only came along hoping to hear about your necrophilic romps," Daisy said grimacing at the diner's menu she held.

Mitchell watched her with disdain but decided his time was too short to indulge in Daisy's taunting.

"Didn't you get the message? You want to get staked?" Ivan asked.

"I have no choice. And I'm not going to fight. I'm going to surrender."

His friend looked at him in silence for a few minutes.

"Are you sure?"

"It's the only way I can keep George and Annie safe," he replied finally giving up on the coffee.

"And who is going to make sure you're safe? Whoever is behind this has a score to settle with you," Ivan pointed out leaning over his crossed arms on the table.

"I was hoping you'd help me."

"Oh no Johnny boy!" Daisy interrupted once more. "Ivan and I are leaving. We stayed here too long."

"I'm afraid Daisy is right. I'm not a young man anymore. I got out of the vampire politics a long time ago. I just want to travel the world, have good food and better wine, see fine art, have my delicious wife with me."

"I could do with an ally," Mitchell explained.

"You know I was never the heroic type. This is not my war Mitchell."

"Okay. It was worth to try."

Ivan just nodded and with a simple look he motioned for Daisy to wait outside for him. Once she was gone he placed a couple banknotes on the table and slowly placed back his wallet in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"I'll tell you what. I'll keep tabs on you. Good luck my friend."

Ivan stood up and started walking towards the door only to stop abruptly midway. He turned around and came back to Mitchell's table.

"Why this Mitchell? I would have taken my woman and left. Why not get George to safety and travel the world with your ghost?"

"Because I don't want that for them. A life on the run," Mitchell replied looking up to Ivan.

"A life on the run _with_ you."

"A calm and peaceful life without me sounds better," he said turning back to the table.

Ivan just nodded and left.

XXXXXXXX

Mitchell walked the last block leading to the funeral parlour like a man to the gallows. He left the car at Windsor Terrace with the keys next to the telephone. If his plan failed he wanted Annie and George to have every advantage on their side.

He entered the building only to find it deserted. He walked slowly concentrating on any sound coming from the back but he couldn't hear anything.

The front door bell caught him off guard and he turned to see a man of his height with short, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes standing before him. He was wearing an expensive looking grey suit.

"Mitchell," he said finally as if they were old friends just recently reacquainted.

"Is it you then?" Mitchell said planting his feet firm on the ground.

"No pleasantries… This world is going to the dogs, isn't it?"

"You did enough introduction by post."

"You got my letters then," the man said smiling condescendingly.

"Who are you?" Mitchell asked visibly upset.

"Gabriel Caine."

"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?"

"Surprised someone's coming for payback? You have made peace with your past… Or your memory has gone bad."

"Quite the opposite… It's because of how clearly I remember my victims, and every single person I've hurt that I don't know who you are… Or is it that you've come to collect on someone else's name?" Mitchell inquired.

"You're clever. One thing I'll give pathetic old Bill: He struck gold with you."

"You knew him then?"

"You could almost say we were nursed by the same breast," he replied getting closer.

"Hettie?" Mitchell asked confused.

"My maker."

"Herrick never mentioned you."

"I'm not surprised. He wasn't one for honour, was he? A sore mistake of my… mother."

"I met Hettie. She never mentioned you either."

"We had a fall out. She loved pulling the innocent girl stunt. She was an artist. It wasn't just about the feeding; it was about crafting the right scene."

He walked past Mitchell and went behind the front desk to retrieve a bottle of whisky.

"Herrick was just a lowly legal clerk about to sell a defenceless little girl to a brothel. Middle aged, unambitious, pathetic little William," he continued his account as he served a couple of tumblers.

"And she decided to turn him in the last minute. After me," he paused, "after a century we had spent together. She made me train him. And along with the bloodlust he developed ambition. A born-again despot!" he remarked the last bit handing Mitchell the glass.

Mitchell listened in disbelief, his eyebrows knitted understanding how far back his damnation dated.

"What is it with our kind and the tragic romanticism?" he finally said rolling his eyes and shaking his head slowly.

"You're quite testy… Anyway…Cheers."

Mitchell drank the liquor in one swallow.

"Look mate. You don't like me obviously. I don't know if you've heard but I don't want part on any vampire take over master plan. I'm not carrying on Herrick's memory or anything."

"The last thing I want is to continue his foolish agenda. I should have thanked your lyco friend for doing me a favour."

"And your way to show your appreciation was almost killing him?"

"Well… He's a lyco after all," Caine said shrugging as he sipped from his glass.

"What do you want from me then?"

"You know what the problem with Herrick was?"

"Too many to count, but enlighten me."

"He was a pathetic excuse of a man and even worse vampire. I'll never understand what she saw in him. Vampires are chosen. It is an honour."

"Jesus Christ! Is this what it is all about? Cain and Abel? The prodigal son?"

"An altar boy until the end, eh?"

"Look. I see your point. He was off his rocker. He recruited me, but I can't say that I miss him. He threatened what I believed in and whom I loved and I'm glad he's dead. Now, can I go home and count on you leaving me and my family be?"

"Ah… George and… what's the name of your lovely grey pigeon?"

"Annie…" Mitchell replied reluctantly.

"Yes… I'm afraid that I need you to work for me."

"So you too are looking forward to vampires coming out and taking over the world?"

"For Christ sake no! That was Bill's megalomaniac aspirations. His plans had to be stopped or our kind would have been endangered."

"So what is the problem with us then?"

"Listen. Your friend beat me to the punch. I was coming for my dear… brother. I'm not going to lie and say that I would have liked to see his ugly face contort in pain. But him being dead doesn't settle the score. What better way to do it than taking over his organisation and his golden boy? He got one thing right though. He chose you wisely."

"I'm not going to be your puppet. I did that enough. Why can't you people just let me be?"

"Ah… the vampire that doesn't drink blood. What you don't get 'mate' is that you are a very great risk for us. I don't condone Herrick's way of life or his plans. I'm not a human lover but I see the benefit of not killing… much. There are hoards of them willing to… nurture us… But what you're doing my friend is dangerous. You're going to lose it one day and vampires will be front-page news. Sightings will be tweeted and we'll be extinct within a year. No… You'll be working for me. Properly feeding."

"You are certainly related to Herrick. This was clearly a mistake. I'm going home." Mitchell started to walk towards the door.

"No you're not. You leave this building and there won't be a merry little house to go home. Nor those lower life forms you live with."

As if on cue, five or six vampires came and surrounded Mitchell and Gabriel.

"You will not touch them," Mitchell threatened him invading his personal space.

"Oh, but I have already haven't I?" The elder vampire said grinning.

"You will never touch George again."

"I will. And I will cage that pretty ghost of yours as well."

"You can't."

"You really think so? What do you think will happen to her when I burn down the house, kill the lyco, and stake you? Do you think her door will appear, or will she fade into nothingness? Or better yet. I kill the lyco in front of her, and enslave you. I'll tell her that she needs to let me keep her if she wants you to live. Do you think she'll do it? I've heard wonders of rare exotic birds like her, turning down their doors and going poltergeist. I'm a bit of a collector you see…"

"No! Please don't."

"Will you comply then?"

"I'll do whatever you want. But I won't kill and I don't drink blood. And you leave them alone. My life for theirs."

"You will comply yes. But you will drink blood…. After I drink yours."

"What?"

"Take him."

"What are you doing?"

"Keeping the line pure, and proud, like it should have been."

Mitchell felt himself be subdued. He was taken to the preparation room in the back. He was strong but these vampires outnumbered him and they were properly fed. Gabriel came to him and wrapped his hand on his hair and pulled hard to the side in order to expose his neck.

"You should remember this," he said behind his obsidian eyes just before puncturing his skin with his fangs.

The act was despicable: the intimacy of a lover's passionate kiss intended to humiliate. He was transported back to that French field so many years before. He didn't dry him; it was barely enough to make him feel weakened and even thirstier than his bleakest days. Caine laughed loudly humiliating him further before ripping the skin of his own wrist with his bloody fangs. He didn't have to entice Mitchell to drink; he latched on as soon as it was close to his mouth.

The instinct to survive was always the first to kick in, and the last vestige of life to lose.

He felt the thick blood going down his throat and the taste made him nauseous. Decades later and he could taste Herrick's blood. This vampire and Herrick had shared the same source, the same curse. The same taste he was sure was detectable in his own blood, the same he had fed Lauren and Bernie.

A voice inside him laughed and cried when he remembered that he was made of the same bile as the monsters before him.

"Very well. That should be enough for you to remember to whom you belong. I expect you'll be keeping a better diet from now own. I have a surprise for you. I think you'll like her," Gabriel said as he left the room and signalled the others to follow.

Mitchell was thrown violently on a chair and left to sort through his confusion. Through messy hair and blurry sight he saw a darkened figure approaching. As it walked towards him its shape became clearer revealing the womanly curves. The enticing sway of hips brought her closer, and with it, the horror at the bounce of her curly hair.

Finally her face was close enough for him to notice the errors: green eyes and a freckled nose revealed the deceit. He laughed realising what his new tormentor had done.

Caine had gone too far. She wasn't a random prey, some unknown girl dragged into a dark alleyway. She was doing this voluntarily? Jesus Christ! Someone carefully chosen from some deviant site like it was a catalogue, selected for the warm colour of her skin, the dark tendrils of her hair. The bastard had gotten as far as getting the right tone of grey, leggings and knitted boots included.

Was the humiliation not enough? Was it really necessary to come to these lengths? He didn't want to think of her, the real her, if he came to a breaking point. Did he think this would entice him? Or was it just done for a laugh?

She wasn't right though. Her look was good only for one thing, to horrify him. Did they really believe a grey cardigan would make him hard?

When he looked around for the door he finally noticed they had left him alone with the girl. She straddled him and got so close to him that their lips were almost touching. Instead of kissing him she licked a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth and smiled seductively.

She wasn't supposed to like it. He had heard about people like her, he even knew some vampires who liked to keep that sort of… companions. But they were not supposed to be dominant. They were always docile, happy to serve a master. She was acting like a vampire but he could hear her pulse, it was enticing and he could almost swear that if it hadn't been for her attempt at passing for Annie he would be draining her.

Annie.

His Annie and not this girl.

They had given her the right clothes and told her how to style her hair, but she knew nothing of Annie. Everything about this woman was fake, her movements too studied, like stalking a prey when Annie would always be so painfully natural.

The rage came clear to him and his eyes went black. The girl may have taken them for something else and she bared her neck.

Mitchell pushed her off as he got to his feet. She was on the floor now with her hands hoisting her up and smiling still.

"Why would you do this?" he asked her with disgust.

"Who wouldn't want this?" she answered with another question as she got back up. "It's a fantasy."

"It's violent, it's painful, it's cold… but it's not a fantasy. Far from a fantasy sweetheart."

"Who said those things can't be my fantasy?"

"You were brought here for me to kill. It's a long and painful death. You'll be coldly aware of what is happening to you and you won't be able to do anything about it. And it will terribly humiliating. You'll be vulnerable in a very intimate moment. And I won't care at all. You can't tell me that is what you fantasized about. What are you getting out of it?"

"Truth. Power. Eternity," she said pacing around the room, dragging her long manicured nails on the steel of the plank where corpses were meant to rest.

"You want to be recruited?"

"Is that what you call it?" She asked looking at him through alluring eyes.

"What would you call it?"

"Enlightenment."

"If you think you'll wake up understanding the meaning of life you're sorely mistaken," Mitchell replied wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's 42. I read the book. It's more than that and you know it."

Mitchell laughed.

"Do I look like her?"

"Do you have any idea who you're talking about?"

"I never saw her. He told me what to wear, how to do my hair. I know what he wants to… kick-start in you… I don't understand the fascination with grey. But who am I to criticize kinks, right?"

"And you're okay with it? With me using you as a stand-in for someone else? And repaying you with pain and death?"

"You're easy on the eyes. I could have done much worse," she replied shrugging.

Mitchell shook his head.

"You're not her. Take off those clothes."

"As you wish," she said starting to disrobe without evading his sight.

"Not here."

"Fine. But you'll eventually come to me. It may be my body, it may be my blood, but you'll come to get it," she paused for a second to give him a Cheshire cat smile. "And one of them is going to lead to the other," she finally said walking past him to leave the room.

"I will kill you."

"But Gabriel will bring me back," she remarked as she walked away exaggerating the sway of her hips. 

XXXXXX

Annie finally gave up on moping around after a couple of days. Her mother used to tell her that the best thing to do to battle worry was to take action. Three days later she had managed quite a long list of things: She had rearranged the living room furniture and put it back after George had tripped with the sofa; she had alphabetised all the spices they owned; and read every book in the house.

Once those activities were done, she realised that maybe she should take action on something what would actually be useful, so she restarted her lessons with Sykes. He had read her aura and known something was making her go grey, she immediately had touched her hair worried, only to have Sykes reassure her that it wasn't that, but that her aura was showing great melancholy.

She had told him about Mitchell and they talked long about ghosts.

It was after that when she started walking the city at night. There was a lot of their talk that she needed to process, especially a question Sykes had asked her.

A question that could change things drastically.

Meanwhile he'd been watching her walk aimlessly through the night. It wasn't difficult to stay in the shadows to trail her; after all, it was his second nature. What could have convinced her that she was safe in the hours when everybody else was sleeping soundly in their beds and dreaming naively that the world was a good place?

In the hours when the sky begins to lighten she stopped by the river. Her hands on the rail and eyes closed inhaling the cold air.

She didn't see him coming.

The old fingers wrapped around the icy flesh and her eyes opened abruptly. She stared at her hand firmly held by his, with the familiar green knitted covering rubbing harshly and oh so familiarly the back of her hand.

"You shouldn't wander around alone at night. And you certainly shouldn't walk around with your eyes closed."

"What's going to happen to me?" she said looking back to the water.

"Nothing if I get it my way."

She turned to look at him but he kept his eyes forward.

"I didn't mean that," she said upset that he was twisting her words.

"I know," Mitchell said turning back to face her.

"You're still not coming back right?" Annie asked swallowing the bitter lump on her throat.

"I can't. I made a deal."

"Did he make you sign a scroll with a quill dipped in your blood? Those are historically bad ideas you know?"

He smiled at her joke. "No. I didn't sell my soul."

"What was it then?"

"You wouldn't believe how ridiculous all is."

"My life is the set up of a common three persons walked into a pub joke, try me."

"His name is Gabriel Caine. Hettie, Herrick's maker, recruited him. Caine hated him with a passion."

"Who wouldn't?"

"Indeed. Anyways, he wants to take over Bristol, piss on everything Herrick ever touched. Tarnish his… dear God… legacy."

"What does he want with you?" Annie asked without noticing that her hand was holding on to his shirtsleeve.

"Everything and everyone that Herrick touched. Jesus Christ! Is this how vampire plans sound? It's pathetic."

"Yes, pretty much," she replied smiling.

"I'm going to figure this out."

"Let's go. Grab George and Nina. Fuck the house and everything in it! We can run," Annie proposed getting closer to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Mitchell stared at her with a cautious smile, and then placed his hands on the sides of her face.

"And he'd find us. He'd find you. It's not worth it."

"You're a stupid Irish vampire." She said as she rested her head on his chest

"And yet you love me."

That made her look up at him and he took the opportunity to kiss her.

It lasted a few minutes until a thought became clear to Annie and she pushed him back.

"You taste of blood."

"I haven't killed anyone," he said apologetically.

"You haven't? Yet? Is that what you mean?" Annie said pushing him back.

"I tried Annie. I couldn't stop him. It was his blood and it was vile."

"How can I know that you will be safe?" She asked now more worried than before.

"You'll have to trust me."

Those had been the last words he told her then. He embraced her and she tried with all her might to enjoy his presence before he had to leave.

But her worrying thoughts had been too many to ignore.


	16. Chapter 16

**After the long hiatus here is another chapter for "You saved me". I apologise profusely. I promise I won't take that long to update.**

**Once again I owe a lot to Crystal for her work as beta and also to Megan for reading the chapter and giving me pointers. If you haven't read their work you are missing out, so do it soon.**

**None of the characters belong to me (with the exception of new characters), they belong to Toby and we all know what he's done to them.**

* * *

The job wasn't new. Just like being a porter, the work itself was an endless repetition of the same boring tasks. It had its perks: no longer having to mop sick and piss was a definite upside from his previous position. The current one, if it could be called that, was by no means anything glamorous; just dealing with Herrick's numerous accounts, strengthening old understandings and making sure by any means necessary that the vampire world of Bristol ran once more like clockwork.

But just as its predecessor, it worked well in Mitchell's quest to get distracted with the never-ending hunger, now that temptation was at arms reach.

He hadn't seen Annie in the past few weeks; or rather she hadn't seen him. He had followed her a few times from afar, but hadn't approached her. Everything had been said the last time they met. He couldn't come back, not yet. She worried for him. He thought that not letting her see him or talk to him would spare her from heartache, but he was painfully wrong.

Annie had sensed him a couple of times on her night walks but she didn't want to push anymore.

She was always there, on the back of every thought, though he pushed for her image to be buried in the vast desert of his mind. Mitchell couldn't think of her, not there. He wouldn't tarnish her image when blood was being placed in front of him at all hours, wrapped around in an alluring, supple and warm body that kept trying to impersonate her. No, Annie's name would not be sullied by being pronounced in that forsaken place, he vowed to himself.

But at night, after coming back from stalking her from afar, alone in one of the private rooms he had been using, he'd let himself think of her.

"You have to be the vampire who has the least amount of fun in the whole country," said his daily annoyance as she bent over the desk facing him and wrinkling the neat work he had been doing.

"Get lost, Lou! I'm not in the mood," Mitchell said pulling the accounts book from under her without even looking at her face.

"I could help you with that."

"No sweetheart, you keep saying that but you really can't," he replied finally looking her in the eye. "What kind of name is Lou anyway?"

"Short for Louisa. My mum had delusions of grandeur despite us living on benefits in a council flat. She must have taken it from the telly and I got stuck with a name better fitted for a snooty girl attending Swiss boarding school. You'd call yourself Lou too, if you were me. John."

"The name is Mitchell."

"See? We're not that different after all."

"No, we're not. And that's exactly why this bit you've been doing is bad news," Mitchell said leaning back on his chair.

"My mum used to say that I was a sucker for any pair of trousers who'd treat me badly. I guess she was right," Lou explained nonchalantly as she checked her manicured nails.∫

"Does she even know what you do now?" Mitchell asked intrigued for the first time.

"Daddy beat her to death while in a drunken rage. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"And you think vampirism is your ticket to a better life? You're not too late you know? I know people who would kill to have the life you are so eager to give away. I know someone who deserved it more."

"Your ghost? Tell me her name."

He icily replied, "No."

"What's so wonderful about her? She must be some lay if–"

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!" Mitchell was off his seat in a second and holding Lou's neck tight against a wall.

"I can send you into a rage, let me show you how I can make you feel other things."

"Go bother Gabriel," Mitchell said letting go off her and returning to his seat and work.

"He sent me here. He said it's your last chance to drink willingly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means today is a very special day for Lou here."

He didn't have to ask her to elaborate, because the office door had burst open by the two vampire goons Caine had brought with him from whatever circle of hell he had escaped.

"Oops. I guess Daddy is mad," Lou said once more playing with the grey clothes she kept wearing to annoy Mitchell.

"Anything I can help you with Caine?" Mitchell inquired.

"Don't play innocent with me," Caine responded coming to stand in front of him with a perfectly creased dark grey suit, "I know that you are not feeding and don't you think for a second that I don't know about your little ghost gazing. That is NOT what we agreed upon."

"I'm not living with them anymore. I'm working with you. We have rogue vampires taken care of. What's the damage with what I do or don't in my own free time?"

"Don't be cheeky with me, Mitchell. The longer you keep hung up on that ridiculous idea that you and your little friends are human beings, the longer you put our organization in danger. And to be perfectly honest I am getting tired of this naughty boy not wanting to eat his supper performance you've been putting up. Now, be a good boy and drink her before I make you," he said gesturing to Lou to get closer to Mitchell.

"I told you I'll do your bidding, but I won't drink any more blood. Not hers, not anyone's."

"I could play bad Daddy and bring that dog of yours down to his knees in front of you, or threaten to make your little ghost know what a real vampire feels like breaking her lovely body. But I'm too old for this shit. Alistair, James, hold him. Now my dear," he said turning to Lou. "Your lovely neck if you please."

She uncovered her neck smiling. The whole thing sickened Mitchell.

"I won't drink from her. You can have Tweedledee and Tweedledum here hold me all you want but I won't drink from her."

"Of course not. Who wants a dry girl? Here let me get her wet for you. Come here my dear, give us a taste of that honey," He said gathering Lou in his arms and puncturing her neck with his fangs, eliciting a subtle moan from the girl.

Gabriel Caine prided himself on his meticulousness and order. He had never been a messy eater, even at the very beginning, he may not had been as refined, but he had been raised not to waste even a morsel of food (owed to the dire times in which he was born) and then Hettie had taught him how to drain his victims without spilling a drop of blood. He was, after all, a true gentleman.

But desperate times asked for desperate measures. Desire was often born of sight, he knew, so he drank from Lou lustfully, making sure fat droplets of blood would slide down her neck tinting dramatically the white camisole and the grey cardigan.

Mitchell had tried to avoid looking at the act, knowing it was all designed to entice him. He tried to look away, but the muscled vampires holding him had held on to his jaw and forcefully made him stare. The veil of black had descended upon his eyes despite his best efforts of thinking of George and Annie's faces. In his desperation he had even conjured Nina's violent rants against him.

But it was all for naught.

In the drop of a hat he was the animal Carl had tied to a chair at the end of the last millennia. He would have laughed at the symmetry if he hadn't been so terrified.

'Oh Annie' he thought 'I told you I could get scared.'

She climbed into his lap haemorrhaging from her neck with that stupid smile that he guessed was not just she, but the daze the loss of blood was causing. Once she was close enough he didn't stand a chance. He latched on instinctively like a newborn babe. Soon the dread was washed away by the new blood replacing the old in his veins.

Lou had been so excited, Caine had drunk from her before and she naively thought that her recruitment would be just as controlled. But she was sorely mistaken. Mitchell had been right, the moment she anticipated of her death was too intimate and he probably couldn't even remember her name anymore. Alistair and James didn't care about her either and Caine, the man she had idolised, was engrossed in his smart phone.

She has thought the moment would be special for him and she suddenly dreaded it had been all a lie; he'd discard her dead body once his protégé was sated. There would be no eternity for her.

A lone tear ran down her cheek and Mitchell noticed. Another woman's cheek stained with salt because of him. The blood was gone from his mind and Annie's stained cheeks filled his thoughts. He stood up strengthened by the new blood and Lou's still breathing body fell to the floor.

He hadn't drained her; he hadn't even come close to draining her. But he had had enough blood to get him drunk. From Annie's tears his mind raced through his memories of the lovely ghost, which made his mind, and his lusts, zone in on an idea. He left the room and the building all bloodied and black-eyed.

No one left standing in his wake.

"Caine…" Lou called feebly.

"Pick her up boys," Caine said lacking empathy.

"Do I get to drink from you now?" She asked hopeful.

"He didn't drink you to the brink of death. It won't work. Don't overact, you didn't lose much more blood than if you had donated to the Red Cross." Gabriel replied unimpressed.

"Finish me off then," She said still woozy but regaining enough strength to hold herself up in the chair the goons had sat her in.

"He didn't drink enough from you, but that doesn't mean that we won't give him more chances."

"But he left! You let him go! How is that going to help your plans?"

"He had enough blood to get him high and once he sobers up he'll feel nothing but regret. Don't you know anything about addicts? Nothing will keep you drinking like the guilt after, you'd keep yourself drunk in order to drown the sorrow."

"Daddy was an alcoholic. He'd keep himself drunk to avoid remembering how he'd beat Mum and me when he was sloshed."

It was only then that Caine caressed the blood stained skin of her cheek.

Only to slap her violently when his touch made her close her eyes.

"Don't ask stupid things then dear," He explained as he cleaned his hand with a pristine white handkerchief. "James, be useful and bring Louisa here some orange juice." He ordered as he left.

* * *

She hadn't sensed him coming. The door to her room had never been opened with such violence.

He was standing there in front of her, all black eyes, rage and hunger. Some old instinct made her move very slowly, the thought was gloomy, no sudden movements in front of a wild beast. He was a murderous animal coming for her.

For a few seconds his shaded irises looked at her standing up slowly from her armchair and taking a step back.

He wouldn't wait for her to take one more step back.

He knew how to stalk his prey.

They always moved slowly, as if they had any chance. Once the mind accepts the fact that death is imminent the instinct to flee, kicks in. His heightened senses could pick up the resolve to escape in the way the muscles tensed in preparation. Humans could not see it, but he was always well prepared.

It usually took him a couple of strides to catch them when they tried to flee.

Her ghostly body tensed about to escape, she wouldn't run though, she'd rent-a-ghost out of his reach, but she looked through him and she saw it all: layer upon rich layer of murky rage, the thick dense red veils of hunger, the black haze of hatred, and behind all of that the rusted copper of satiated thirst. She felt a scream dig inwards into herself.

But that wouldn't deter him.

The deep draw of breath hollowed her and sat deep in her belly. She felt it pulse inconsolably there.

She almost left until she reached the deepest stage of his aura: the saddest grey of his need and despair. In that mist she saw him calling for her, buried deep into the insatiable need of violence.

Deep down she saw only his need of her.

Her resolve relaxed.

She knew before him that she wouldn't move.

Not as long as his need to immolate her born of his need for her to contain him.

He was soon on her, kissing her deeply with his hands trying to bring her closer and closer, as if merging her to him was possible. A hand on her breast pushing and digging painfully made her feel as if he really was trying to take her heart out to crush it within his fist.

Her carding was ripped away and her white top pushed up. Before she knew it his own shirt had gone and he was bare chested kissing and biting her lips, her jaw, her neck.

'Pain is only in your mind,' she kept repeating to herself as a mantra. But her skin was telling her that that was useless lie. At that point she wondered if she had been born to be broken time and time again.

He picked her up and slammed her against the wall behind. His fingers on her hip were leaving scarlet marks while trying to pull her clothing a bit down.

Once before he had taken her while in his blood lust, all rage and hunger, but that time he hadn't been violent, not like this, she hadn't felt like he was purposefully trying to cause her pain. A voice inside her was chanting, making her close her eyes tightly and telling her that this was still him; that this was the price she needed to pay the boatman to rescue him from hell.

The ancient voice inside her was speaking to her now. Telling her to go to the blank space, the only place where he couldn't follow. She sensed they were both about to cross a line, and after, a wild river would separate them forever.

'It's all in your mind,' she kept silently repeating to herself.

She didn't have to repeat it much longer.

The beloved body of her tormentor was ripped away in a second flat and she opened her eyes to meet George's face distorted by his ire.

Mitchell was on the floor and he lunged back at their friend but George punched him in the face with perfect aim and timing.

She heard a terribly sad moan and then figured out it was her own.

"Do not touch her!" George yelled.

"This is not any of your business, George. Get out," Mitchell said with icy control as he got back to his feet holding on to his jaw.

"No, no, no, no," Annie found herself repeating to no one in particular pulling her vest back on to hide her shame as she looked at George.

"Are you okay Annie?" he asked concerned, without letting Mitchell out of his sight.

"I'm okay…I'm okay… He wasn't going to hurt me," she replied trying to minimise her ordeal.

"Like hell he wasn't!"

"No one told you it was bad to interrupt a couple having an intimate moment, George?"

"This is not intimacy. This is you forcing yourself on her," George said and prompting Annie to hide her face in her hands.

"No… No George… He wasn't going to…" she softly sobbed.

"No Annie. That was anything but loving," George replied.

"Don't you hear her, George? Be a good boy and leave," Mitchell taunted.

"I'm not going to let you touch her."

"It's not like I need your permission, and oh, I think she likes when I touch her!" he said with an evil smile, "And besides," he continued toughening his face "you're not going to keep me from taking what belongs to me."

The last words spoken had been directed to both Annie and him, he knew Mitchell well enough to know that even now in the throes of bloodlust he would choose the right words to cut deeper. It had been the last drop for him.

"That's it. Get out! You're not welcome here anymore. Leave and don't come back until you resemble the person we know."

"Poor naïve, George. This is who I have always been," he said getting too close for George's comfort.

"No… Mitchell… You can't think…" Annie cried.

"Not up to your fantasies sweetheart?" he asked looking back to Annie and making her cower down to the floor.

"Leave now!" George yelled.

Mitchell left picking up his vest from the floor and slamming the front door so hard that it made Annie flinch.

"Are you okay, Annie?"

"He wasn't going to hurt me, George," Annie said avoiding his eyes.

"Tell me you were enjoying that. Tell me you were not scared and I will believe you," he said kneeling down to her and searching for her eyes behind her hair.

"He wasn't himself," she said pushing her hair back and daring to look him in the eye. "He needed me to help him. He's going to go out and he'll hurt someone," she said, her voice quivering at the end.

"So it should better be you?" George asked scandalised.

"I'm dead, George! He can't kill me," she kept trying to justify the unjustifiable.

"Annie… You'll let him chew you up and spit you afterwards just because you rather he'd do that to you than to somebody else?

"You'll gladly take his rage upon yourself as punishment for what he's done because that is who you are: you won't think twice before throwing yourself over a landmine… You're right. He can't kill you. But he can break your spirit. And your heart. And I won't cross my arms and watch silently while he does it."

"George… That is not the real him…"

"No, that wasn't him. He drank blood."

"You saw it?" she asked knowing he couldn't see auras like her.

"I didn't have to, did I? That he high, as I've never seen him before. He is my best friend, but God help me I wanted to rip his head off when I saw him hurting you."

"It was the blood. They made him do this. He needed me to help him and I couldn't!"

"Oh Annie… Listen to yourself. Let's just change the fact he's a vampire and say he's a heroin addict. Hear yourself and tell me what would make him different from an abusive boyfriend trying to take all his anger on you… Tell me what makes him different from that… from Owen…"

"No… No… He's not Owen," Annie sobbed again covering her shame with her hands.

"You think this is not breaking me? One of the three people I love most in this world being used and hurt like that. By someone I consider my own brother!" he said brushing her tears off her face.

"What do you expect me to do?" he continued, "He's my best friend. I owe him my life, but I'll beat him to a pulp if he tries to hurt you like that again. You do not deserve this. And as much as you'd like to, as much as I'd like to. We cannot save him. He has to do it for himself.

"You're right… That is not the Mitchell we love. But he can't be here until he's back."

"But what if he hurts someone?" Annie asked in desperation.

"He won't. He saw the disappointment in your eyes."

"What if he never comes back?" Annie's question was almost inaudible.

"Then we'll miss him together. But because of the love we have for him, we can't enable him."

Despite the hurt, she knew deep down he was right.

* * *

**AN: I know, I know. I'm sorry. Please bear with me.**


	17. Chapter 17

**I've been working on this chapter for a while. It was becoming a mammoth of a chapter so I decided to break it into two. You'll notice it is shorter than my usual, but I just couldn't keep it as a whole. I expect to post the second part of this chapter soon.**

**Thank you for still having an interest in this story. I've loved all your comments and suggestions. **

**A.**

* * *

Annie was no stranger to doors. In her non-life she had come to fear their sudden apparition and learned the hard way to turn them down and ignore them. But his door was there, not gleaming in soft blue light, but all wood and rusty hinges mocking her every time she walked by it, en route to knock softly in George's room to wake him up. She had almost mastered the art of rent-a-ghosting somewhere without looking back to see the door. But the mere existence of the entrance that once led to her happiness tugged painfully at her heart.

She never opened it nor she appeared inside anymore for she knew that on the other side rested the relic of a room that both George and Annie had silently decided to keep as a museum piece. Nothing was to be moved, nor seen, to remind them of what was missing. She had left things inside, a novel she had been enjoying oh so much, with the upper corner folded back, her favourite mug; her silly attempt at knitting one deformed dark grey fingerless glove.

Objects lost forever, like an old home abandoned in a hurry to escape a sudden invasion.

A cut limb that continued to hurt.

George and Annie had fled the doom without looking back, afraid that if they did they'd suffer the punishment of Lot's wife: to be petrified forever, unable to move forward.

She could picture the room in her mind's eye, his discarded shirt on the floor and the perfect crease of the sheet from the last time they had lain there together. She knew the window had remained open but she couldn't gather the courage to go inside to close it.

George had his own torments.

Mitchell was gone.

The line kept repeating in his head like a mantra. He had moved out weeks before, but it was until then that he truly felt him lost. That was the only explanation he could give himself to keep sane.

It had been a third of George's worst-case scenario happening, right after Nina getting hurt and in the same level as losing Annie to her door. But Annie wasn't sure what her worst fear was anymore. Something as inconsequential as her door appearing ceased to have the same meaning.

Annie had been avoiding him. At first he thought that he was imagining things, since she would still knock softly on his door to wake him and make him tea, but his friend had finally turned into a real ghost: one who would shift objects around him, make the old floor boards moan with her tired steps and appear just in glimpses in his peripheral vision. George would try to catch her, turn his head suddenly and walk softly like a thief, but she would stay afar, no matter how much he called her name.

At last George felt like the true lone wolf he was, howling the loss of his pack.

Annie knew she was avoiding him, and despite sensing that he blamed himself for her hurt, she couldn't face him. She could feel the deep shame mixing with her heartache.

There was a time she feared doors appearing out of the blue but now she knew better. That day in her room George had scooped her up from the floor and held her in his arms as tight as he possibly could. Once all the tears had been shared her mind wondered about the fierceness of George's silent pray, she could sense that he was afraid of her crossing over out of despair.

Mitchell was lost to them. She knew that now.

George opened the front door slowly hoping he'd get a glance of Annie, this time, maybe this time. Through the window to the kitchen he saw a faint movement in grey and his heart filled with hope. Slowly, like a wounded animal he moved, closer, pushing the door back slowly until it clicked in place. The movement in the kitchen stopped and he knew she'd flee again.

"Annie!" He called, "please don't go," he said running to the kitchen but she disappeared nonetheless. Something in her chest ached, as she appeared in the stairs landing, leaning on the wall and closing her eyes in pain.

George came out from the kitchen and stopped a few steps before the stairs.

"Annie, please, I won't come closer, but I need you to listen."

It took all of his strength to keep his voice steady, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Annie," soon it was too much and all his poise was gone, "Oh Annie."

He was crying, Annie could feel it in his voice and his aura was reaching for her. Her own tears were falling now. She wanted to hold him, to cry together at last but something rooted her to the spot.

"I miss him too. I need him too. Oh Annie. I know it was my fault, I know. But I couldn't stand to see him hurting you, to see him like that. I don't regret it. But I can't take losing you as well. I'm sorry Annie, I'm just so sorry. Please, please forgive me."

It was all too much. Annie felt guilty for making him blame himself.

"It's not your fault. I'm sorry George." She said loud enough for him to hear and rent-a-ghosted out before he could find her.

Soon she was in the only place she knew no one expected her to be: sitting on her grave.

* * *

Nina found her boyfriend in his kitchen rearranging the cupboards.

"Aren't you going to get into trouble with Annie for doing that?" She asked trying to be funny.

She had sensed George's despair but hadn't had success finding the cause. Something had shifted in the pink house and George had tried to keep her away. That day she had had enough of his evasiveness and had finally come on her own accord to figure it out.

George had turned slowly and she saw traces of tears in his face. She ran to him and held him in her arms.

He felt himself crumble. He was done being strong.

"I don't think she cares Nina, not anymore," he said crying silently on her shoulder.

"What happened? Tell me what happened." She commanded pulling herself from him just enough so they could see each other eye to eye.

George looked at her sadly and then looked around the kitchen. He left his fingers linger in one of her mugs.

"Was she ever real Nina? Have I imagined her all this time? Maybe it's only been me making all that tea. Maybe I'm mental. That's it, isn't it? Mitchell was only my junkie housemate and Annie my imaginary friend."

"George. Where's Annie?" Nina asked feeling the dread rise in her throat.

"Who knows?" He asked cynically "she's a ghost."

"George. Has… Annie… crossed over?"

"No! I mean. She's just been avoiding me. And it's my fault. By how could I let him? He was hurting her. He was out of his mind drunk. He wasn't himself, I know he's not your favourite person, but the real him would have never done that to Annie. God! I love him like a brother, but I just couldn't stand it. I just saw red. I could have killed him right then Nina. I hit him and I kicked him out. And Annie… Oh Annie… She was so small, crying on the floor. I held her for hours, until dawn. I must have fallen asleep. And she hasn't let me see her since."

"What did Mitchell do George? What did he do to Annie?"

He shook his head. "It's not my secret to tell Nina. I can't. I'm sorry."

* * *

It had taken her a good part of the night. Holding him tight against her own body until he had fallen asleep. Nina could only pick up the shattered pieces of what once was a family, a home. He hadn't told her what had happened but she had been able to grasp that Mitchell had come back and he had hurt Annie, and that George had kicked him out. In the last weeks she had sensed George's sadness at Mitchell moving out but it was now something bigger. George was mourning Annie as well.

Something was sitting wrong inside Nina. That nasty voice in her head was at it again. A voice forged out of old lovers and her mother. She had vowed that she wouldn't let the voice touch her but in the middle of the night, alone in that haunted house the voice hissed at her. It reminded her of times in the past when she had mindlessly wished that George could be only hers. She hadn't caused whatever had happened, but her stomach burned with guilt.

She pulled herself from her lover's embrace and put on his dressing gown in the dark. She went down the stairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She didn't bother to turn on the lights, her wolf sight was keen.

She walked out of the kitchen and despite the dark she could see the silhouette sitting on the sofa.

"Annie," she softly called.

The figure didn't move, and for a second she wondered if it was an optical illusion created by shadows, until she lowered her head a little. Nina got closer and she could tell Annie had been sitting holding her bended legs in front of her. Now her face was tight against her thighs and only her curls were visible.

"Annie, please don't go."

"He told you." She affirmed without the hint of a question.

"No. He was coming undone this evening Annie. He said he was sorry, that it hurt him too, but that he couldn't take him hurting you. He didn't explain, but he was hurting so badly. He thinks that you are mad at him, that you blame him for something and that is why you're avoiding him."

Nina could hear Annie sob.

"No, no, no. It's not his fault. I'm not angry with him. I just can't look him in the eye."

"What happened Annie? How did he hurt you?" Nina was ambivalent. She wanted to know what had happened, and yet at the same time her defence mechanism was yelling at her not to know.

"He's lost to us. I don't think he's ever coming back. The real him."

"He's killing again." She said.

"I don't know. I guess. He's drinking blood. He's not Mitchell anymore. Not the man I love."


	18. Chapter 18

**I don't know if anyone even remembers this story. It's been an awful long time since the last time I published, but I just can't leave this story unfinished. **

**Because of the long hiatus I'm posting a long chapter and I should be posting the next soon (it's almost ready). **

**Please, if you still want to see this story to the end, send me a message or leave a review. I need to be shamed about letting so much time to go by.**

**I want to thank you all who have supported this story in the past. It's because of you that I won't let it die unfinished. **

**All characters belong to Toby and you know the rest.**

* * *

Mitchell had left the house in a blinding rage, ready to kill the first being that crossed him and fate had pointed its dark finger at Lou.

'Some people are just dealt the worst cards time and again,' Mitchell thought snickering in his mind.

He had grabbed her by the neck at the entrance of the funeral home and he was ready to grant her the death she had craved, Lou had looked at him in panic and barely moaned "Gabriel..."

Mitchell remembered then that Caine had gone abroad. He had vowed never to curse anyone else after Bernie.

Today he would give her death, but he wouldn't give her a cursed afterlife.

'Yes,' he thought, 'there are some truly unlucky bastards in this world.'

She struggled once her survival instinct kicked in but it was too little too late. His self-hatred was only trumped by the desires of those like her, 'suicide by vampire'; he thought with disdain, and suddenly the true death was too little for the likes of her. It wasn't enough to sate his need of destruction. Big bad John was reawakened with his twisted need to humiliate and torture. He pulled at the grey cardigan that she still wore as a uniform for taunting him. With a sardonic smile, black eyes and bloody fangs, he devised a new and improved way to torture: He wouldn't kill her today.

He would bring her close, time and again, without ever delivering the satisfaction of death.

A cat with the proverbial mouse.

* * *

Days have come and gone. Annie still couldn't bring herself to look at George in the eye, but she found little ways to manifest herself: in a steaming cup of tea next to his hand while he read the paper, and a hand on his shoulder. George would hold on to that hand without turning, they would stay like that for a while, until he couldn't take it anymore and he would half turn his face with a sob and a gentle kiss to her hand. Annie would let the veil of her curls down over him and anoint him with her own kiss and her tears, before leaving again.

Every day George would congratulate himself for shedding fewer tears. He hoped that one day he could go through that ritual without crying, and that day he may trust his voice to be steady enough to call her name.

The story was different with Nina, despite the animosity she felt for Mitchell both women had declared an armistice: Nina didn't ask anymore about what had happened 'that night' and Annie didn't mention his name.

"You really don't need to come to the shops with me Nina. I am perfectly capable of doing the shop on my own," she said one afternoon when she thought they almost mastered the art of pretending everything was fine.

"I know you can sweetie, but it's safer this way. You know? Safety in numbers?" She stated with a pathetic smile and a lift of her shoulders.

"Are you afraid of me being dragged to a door or me running into a vampire in a leather jacket?"

Annie asked trying to be funny but knowing as soon as the words left her mouth that she had failed miserably.

"I promised George."

"You must think I'm a punching bag," she finally said stopping on her way to look at her friend in the eye. "Just don't tell me you told me so."

"Oh Annie. No. Believe me, I'm not the one to say I told you so," Nina wondered when she had turned into the person she was right then and there. For long she had thought of Annie as a much younger version of herself. She felt like laughing. She had been so self-righteous and naïve, "…and," she continued in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "I have the scars to prove it."

"Nina?" Annie asked concerned.

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just babbling."

'This is it' Nina thought. She thought that the time to tell her ghost friend something that she had only confided in George had come. 'If Annie only knew we are all haunted by ghosts'. But an eerie sight ahead interrupted her thoughts.

They had turned to an empty street, but when Nina had looked back ahead she was startled by the figure waiting for them.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Nina said looking at the girl.

If this was a bad joke Nina had an idea of whom to thank for it. She had pieced together what she could from Annie and George's behaviour and the tell-tale scars of the pink house from that fatidic night. It hadn't required a sleuth really. 'Abuse' she had thought to herself, 'is a catchy tune. No matter how much you try to get rid of it, it is always playing in your mind.'

But she had to give him points for creativity. The girl waiting for them was made up to look like Annie, if Annie was reduced to a cartoon. Her skin had a sickly hue, 'a junkie' Nina's professional inner voice announced. He arms were covered in a raggedy grey cardigan two sizes too big for her, but she would bet good money on finding needle marks on them. The girl smoked compulsively while she observed them. Once she could see Nina's judgement the ends of her mouth pulled up in a sardonic smile.

It was when she turned to exhale that she noticed the red marks on her neck.

'He's getting sloppy,' she thought.

"So this is you," the girl said breaking Nina's inner monologue, as she went pass her to where Annie stood.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Annie asked without moving. Nina dropped the empty canvas bag she was holding, planning on ushering her friend back to the sanctuary where they could keep the monsters outside.

"No. But I know someone you obviously know," the girl replied, amused to see the distress in her face "quite well actually."

The last words were a poisoned dart, disguised in singsong.

Nina grabbed Annie's hand and tried to pull her back, but she wasn't budging.

"Annie," she said trying to get her attention.

But the girl continued her taunts, "…tall, dark, cute accent… doesn't seem to wash his hair often, but boy can he bite."

That was enough for Nina.

"I'm sorry, is this some kind of bad joke or something? I've heard that plagiarism is just a form of flattery but this is ridiculous," she said addressing the girl.

"Sorry, I want to talk to the owner of the circus, not one of the dwarves," the girl said dropping the smile.

"That's it, you're asking for it and I've been dying to beat up one of you sodding vampires!" Nina yelled enraged.

"Nina!" Annie interrupted her to get her attention to a fact that she had missed "she's not a vampire," she said making Nina turn back and notice all the weaknesses that were badly covered.

"They bleed you," Annie said turning back to the rude girl.

"They?" She asked to make a point, "you know who it was."

"This just keeps getting lovelier," Nina said looking around.

Annie remained in silence.

"So, how does it make you feel? To know that my blood courses through his veins?" The girl asked knowing she had, once more, the upper hand.

"Is there any real purpose for this? Or do you just get off speaking like a twat?" Nina asked.

"I wanted to see you. I thought the grey thing was a joke but it's not, is it? I dress like this for him. It really does it for him, doesn't it?"

Annie just shook her head.

"Did he send you?" Nina asked with disgust. 'Oh, this level of cruelty must have taken ages to master' she thought.

But as if she could tell what she as thinking Annie interrupted her.

"Nina, it's okay. I've got this."

"I don't know why he's so interested in you. He speaks of you like you were some kind of a powerful thing but I only see a pathetic girl who just can't get the message and leave."

The rude girl lashed once more feeling neglected.

"You're not talking about Mitchell and me anymore are you?" Annie said stoically, "what did they do for you to chase death like this."

"You don't know nothing," She said looking away.

Nina thought of those girls she had to patch up in the wee hours of the night every weekend. Purple eyes and split lips; pumped stomachs and cartography maps on their wrists. This girl in front of her didn't look like a teenager but she spoke like one.

'None of them ever do' Nina thought sadly.

"It's you. You're… yelling it. It's all in your aura." Annie explained in response to an implicit question. She always did that.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"_He_ drank your blood," she continued, Nina could sense the hurt in the pronoun 'he', "many times. But there is someone else who scares you more. Someone you lo-"

"It's none of your business!" The girl interrupted her clearly hurt, "your only business is that he drank my blood, over and over, and every time he broke my skin I was dressed like you," she bared her neck and arms "he really has a talent for pain, doesn't he? He knows how to torture, how to humiliate. And all of those times I wore your clothes and he turned my face away. Who do you think he was thinking about? Who do you think I was a stand-in for? I don't know what you did to him sweetie, but he really wants to hurt you, real bad."

Nina looked around trying to spy people staring. She saw no one, but she thought that if someone happened to witness the drama in front of her, they would surely take it for a tasteless encounter between two women quarrelling for the attention of one man. Annie was clearly playing the role of the cheated wife, and the rude girl was the second rate mistress.

"Death is not what you think it is. And you're not going to find what you hope for beyond your door. I've been there." Annie said collected.

"You deserve each other. On and on about how you wished you had my life. Being able to bleed is not as good as you make it sound." She said exasperated.

"Oh no. They have made you bleed a lot. Before him even. I can see it. I'm sorry. But you are still alive. Yes, Mitchell and I are the same. You're standing right at the edge of the precipice and we have already fallen down."

Annie picked up the canvas bag from where Nina had dropped it and she went pass the girl. Nina followed her friend and none of them turned back to look at Lou.

They would have seen her seething and trying to reign in the tears threatening to fall, followed by her putting out her cigarette on the back on her hand.

* * *

They had done the shop in silence. It was unusual for Nina to find it difficult to broach a subject but she felt like a voyeur. It was something she didn't feel entitled to discuss. Maybe George would be better approaching the subject of girl from whom Mitchell had been drinking. 'How would that conversation go?' Nina thought to herself, 'Honey, you would never guess who Annie and I run into today on our way to the shops!' the idea was just too ridiculous.

'And! The slag had the nerve to try to pass for Annie's pathetic doppelganger!'

She must have smiled at the thought for Annie said: "Don't tell him", while they picked up George's Weetabix.

Back home Annie had been putting away the groceries with Nina when George arrived. She could sense his surprise when he came into the kitchen and found her there in front of him, even before she turned to face him.

Annie walked to him and hugged him in silence. George held her for dear life, repeating thank you's like a mantra until he looked up to see Nina leaning on the sink in silence. He mouthed one more 'thank you' just for girlfriend as Annie let go of him, kissed him on the cheek and went upstairs to her room to ruminate all the words that the girl had thrown at her like knives.

Sitting on her armchair she remember the marks on the girl's neck while she idly traced the same spots on her own skin. If she closed her eyes she could feel his lips in the same places. In her mind's eye she could see him, with the tired and gentle eyes he had just for her. The seed of the idea planted by the girl was quickening and she wondered how he looked when he had been playing with that girl. The memory came quickly to her mind and her body, of dark eyes and sharp fangs cutting her and digging for ghost blood. That one time, before everything, the night when everything had started, assaulted her. She wondered if all those times Mitchell had hurt and drained the nameless girl he had thought of that night and of her. She could almost imagine it, and she felt sorry for the bleeding girl whose face was turned to the side by Mitchell's hard and angry hands. She had taken all the rage directed at herself.

But the girl had tried to hurt her with her words undoubtedly trying to channel all the hurt inflicted by Annie's own lover. She surely had tried to make Annie feel bad because Mitchell could touch another woman the way he had touched Annie; but the sad joke was on the girl for Annie couldn't give Mitchell what the girl could. Even that first night, the only night when he had broken her skin there had been no blood; and never again, after that night, had Mitchell been anything but gentle with her, not until the last night, the night George had pulled him from her.

The thought was still powerful.

It ignited in Annie's mind: George had pulled Mitchell from her that night, before he had been able to sate all his rage. What had transpired between the three of them had been so intimately horrifying that George had kicked him out of her home, _their home_.

But Annie hadn't thought about it before: Mitchell had been let loose on the streets where there were others who could do what Annie couldn't: bleed and die.

The girl's pain had been her doing, Annie realised in horror.

She wondered, flagellating herself, how many more souls she had condemned.

* * *

"I saw that sad grey girl of yours today," Lou said to Mitchell when she arrived to the funeral home and he ignored her, "what is her name? Amy? Anne? Ally?"

His face looked up immediately at the mention of Annie. He looked confused for a second, but the feeling was quickly replaced by fury. His eyes went black and with a snarl he unveiled his sharp fangs.

An inner voice immediately chastised her for not taking advantage of the fact that he seemed to be distracted by some papers on the desk.

'You had to poke the bear, didn't you?' The voice admonished her.

He got up quickly and walked to her menacingly.

"Do you want me to tell you how she looked? How sad her eyes looked when she saw her clothes on me and your love bites on my skin?"

Mitchell laughed coldly giving Lou goose bumps.

"'Love bites'? Really? Don't flatter yourself Lou. Don't get confused with what goes on around here _sweetheart_. You're no more than a cigarette, a bottle, a hit."

"Oh, but she knows what being hurt by you looks like, doesn't she? I could see it in her eyes. You've hurt her bad… recently."

That did it for Mitchell. He was going to kill her and this time he wasn't even going to drink from her. The girl's annoying immaturity was putting him off. In one swift move he had her in a choke hold and he was about to twist her weak little neck.

"Gabriel!" She moaned once more. Mitchell was no stranger to other names being called in moments of heightened passion, but Lou's penchant for calling Caine's name every time he would take her close to the real death was getting to be a big turn off.

"Mitchell!" Caine's low voice called from the door.

He let go of Lou.

"It is rude to snap little Miss Louisa's neck when she has so kindly given us her blood my dear boy."

The notion angered Lou, like she had offered her blood to Mitchell out of the good of her heart.

"Don't speak to me like I'm six Caine!"

"Then don't act like you are bloody six when you hear that someone's been playing with your toys," he said collected. He turned back to Lou and continued, "anyway. I trust John here has been a good little boy and drank his blood daily."

The use of the possessive "his" had rubbed Lou the wrong way but she knew better than to make her discomfort show. She simply nodded to Caine.

"Very well then, I trust you'll start looking for your meals elsewhere soon."

The daily diet of Lou's blood had kept Mitchell drunk and enraged, but the edge was wearing off and Lou's stupidity had killed the mood. The haze of the blood was waning and Mitchell was sobering with guilt. The memory of his last time at Windsor Terrace was lurking on the back of his mind but he struggled to keep it buried. He knew the time would come to face his actions and he would have to pay the piper but he still had enough blood in his system to help him ignore his conscience; though not enough to keep him in a drunken daze.

He needed a cigarette badly.

He needed many things as well: blood, oblivion, numbness, sex, death… Annie.

Inside him Caine's and Lou's blood raged against the shred of humanity still left. Annie was the toxicity that repelled their blood, the burning under his skin.

He needed many things right then: to hurt somebody badly until the red would seep into everything grey, but he doubted he would be able to find enough blood to quiet her voice in his mind, that voice saying his name over and over in disappointment.

He badly needed a cigarette…

…or a hundred.

* * *

Mitchell had left without drinking from Lou, but Caine wasn't going to let her go to waste.

Caine pulled his fangs in and he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his expensive suit while Lou closed her eyes trying to stop the world from spinning rapidly. 'I should have eaten something' she thought.

"Care to explain yourself?" Gabriel asked her in the same voice of a school prefect, admonishing her like she was a grammar school girl who hadn't done her homework.

"He didn't take well to news of me meeting his stupid ghost"

"I told you to follow her, not to confront her; and I definitely didn't tell you to let our friend John know."

"I just didn't get what the big fuzz was. She's so… common."

"Are we jealous my dear?"

"Of that girl? For Christ's sake, she was wearing leggings and Uggs!"

"And yet he was happy to break that pretty neck of yours when he heard you were bothering his little pet."

"Oh, sod off Gabriel!"

"She is nothing fancy, that girl of his, but don't underestimate her dear, she's anything but common."

* * *

Mitchell had wandered the streets of Bristol. A couple of times he got close to draining a poor soul from the drunken pub crawlers but something kept putting him off.

He came back late to the room where he had been staying, he had sobered up quite well from Lou's blood and he could feel the heavy hangover lurking. Annie's voice was getting louder. Perhaps he should go out and find fresh blood or find Lou. He wasn't particularly excited about the last prospect but he needed blood now for he knew what was coming.

Perhaps he could find one of the weirdoes Caine kept around to drink from. There were some staying in the funeral parlour, he knew, he could get blood as long as he didn't kill them and with some, as long as he was happy to give a little sex in return.

He didn't feel keen on either rule.

Instead he tried to go to sleep thinking of Annie, of sleepless nights in his bed.

He dreamt of the times when he was learning every mound and valley of her body, when he undertook the rigorous task of learning every sound he could elicit from her.

Of the times he learnt that his name could have infinite intonations and meanings, based on every nuanced tone and breath. He was transported to the time and the feel of his ruffled sheets made deliciously cool by her skin.

Of the softness of her legs against the coarseness of his.

He had her hands trapped above her head in his, one of her thighs cradling his hip, the tips of her breasts like ice chips ploughing through his downy chest, and his cock snugly buried in his woman.

Her little whimpers and moans punctuated his thrusts and he felt empowered by them. He increased his tempo and he smiled when her face showed a mix of surprise and wanton abandon.

The lust was spreading like wildfire, like hot blood rushing through his old veins and so he gave into the need to seek his own pleasure, he unbridled his lust and his force, and paid no mind to the change in her sounds.

He closed his eyes to avoid her confusion and then her fear. She called his name in panic, but he took one hand from hers and used the remaining one to restrain her, while with the other he covered her mouth. He was drunk on her like he would on blood and he peaked with a growl.

When he opened his eyes he saw the panic in her eyes and he felt the tears she had shed. Guilt sobered him and forced him to close his eyes. When he opened them again Annie's eyes were calm and stripped of reproachful tears.

He liked it better that way.

He took his hand from her mouth and waited for the smile that never came. Panic was gone from her eyes, along with everything else. He blinked and her eyes were void, her face pale as the moon crowned by her dark curls with a halo of dark red blood growing from under her. They weren't on his bed anymore, he felt himself float away from her until he was a top of the stairs and he could see her slumped at the bottom in her grey clothes and broken limbs.

He took a couple of steps back until he turned to see himself in a mirror. His face was there where Owen's should have been.

He yelled in horror and he turned back to see a door at the end of the hallway illuminated by a soft blue haze. He ran to it and he opened it. Behind the door there was a long white hallway with closed doors on either side. He stood right there, petrified until a terrible wail pierced the silence.

There was no doubt on the identity of the owner of that voice, he started running calling her name, while he heard her cry and plead, and call his name. He tried doors and yelled for her.

He threw his body against them to no avail.

Her cries continued until there were no more, and finally he saw one door ajar ahead. He ran to it and he swung it open to find a pristine hospital ward. Everything was white linens and sharp silver instruments. A nurse decked in white was busy tidying up the instruments with millimetric precision, facing away from him. In front of her there was a curtain pulled around one bed, the only bed that appeared to be occupied.

He heard her then. She no longer cried.

With a sad exhale she tried to say his name.

Nothing more than silence now.

He cried her name then, and the nurse turned around to reveal it to be Nina. 'Great' he thought with disdain. Her hair was impossibly proper and her watch pinned to her uniform looked more old-fashion than usual.

"Where is Annie?" He yelled.

But Nina looked through him without recognition, slowly lifting a gloved finger to her lips to signal him to be quiet.

Mitchell felt frozen with fear when he saw the blood dripping down from the hand used to chastise him for yelling.

He ran past her and he tore the curtain down to see George dressed like the physicians of his own old time. He had a white shirt covered by a dark grey vest showing the chain of an old watch. His sleeves where rolled back and his hands and forearms where covered with dried blood.

"You did quite a number on this one Mr. Mitchell," he said moving away to reveal the white metal frame of a bed, "you have made a butcher out of me." he said nonchalantly.

Mitchell went to the bed where a body lied covered by a white sheet, with only dark curls peeking out.

With a trembling hand Mitchell pulled it back to reveal Annie's body, she wore a grey gown, the only thing in the room not white besides the blood. There were two coins covering her eyes.

"We've paid the boatman handsomely for her Mr. Mitchell. No need to fret."

He saw red and he was ready to break both their necks. He didn't care if they were his friends. He stopped once he noticed George doing tending to a bundle in a white bowl on a table.

"You did this to her. This is the fruit of your lust."

At first he had thought the word had been 'love', but the grimace on this false George showed him better.

Mitchell wanted to look at this horrible thing he had done to Annie. He looked back to her dead body and he saw no wounds, her beautiful neck was clean, and so were her arms. He pulled the sheet down more to find her bare thighs, but instead of a bloody mess, he found her clean and untouched.

He turned back to the table and he noticed that the doctor was leaving, gallantly ushering the nurse out.

The bloody bundle was still on the bowl just outside of his sight.

He slowly approached it until he could reach it.

A white napkin, rapidly tinting itself red, covered it.

Before leaving the ward for good, the doctor yelled something back to Mitchell.

"Pity it is also dead."

Mitchell felt the blow and he ripped the napkin off to reveal the result of his deeds.

A lifeless heart.

_Her_ lifeless heart.

Mitchell awoke in a sweaty panic. His body convulsed for the non needed air.

The sad whimpers of Annie were still fresh in his ears, but he knew better now, they weren't the sounds she had made in his dream, they were the sounds she had made when he had hurt her the last time she saw her.

He raised form bed and he left in a hurry.

He needed to forget.

He needed blood.

He needed Lou.

Or Caine.

Or any hopeless life he could find.

Anyone would do.


End file.
